


dizzy

by aerials



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-01-30 12:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerials/pseuds/aerials
Summary: If Steve could pinpoint a moment in his high school life where he thought he'd hit rock bottom, hauling Billy Hargrove across a beer soaked lawn to his car was definitely it.





	1. don't plant your feet

High School parties in Hawkins were exactly like the movies - tired, repetitive and boring. It's just that, in a baron wasteland of a town, there truly wasn't much else for teenagers to do than party, to drown their teen woes in cheap punch so that they weren't consumed by their angst for a night. Steve used to find the parties an escape from mundane school activities but once you've fought against ethereal beings from another plain of existence, high school parties are less of an escape and more of an acute annoyance. Still, his standing at school continued to be on the popular side and to uphold his reputation, Steve kind of had to attend. Especially, in a way, to prove a point to those who thought he'd lost his spark since Nancy had left him.

It still stung, to glance around the room and find the girl he had been in love with was dancing with another guy. It still stung to know that he was still seen as an unlovable asshole. At least, he could enjoy the party for the most part in peace - or at least he could enjoy his one beer and perilous thoughts in peace. He no longer had to worry about the 'king' title any longer, having passed the baton onto Billy Hargrove. It was a responsibility that Steve had struggled to uphold, especially with the way it had turned him into some kind of monster. It was different for Billy, he didn't need to try being a douchebag he just _was_. 

Steve could do without the keg stands and the constant peer pressure, he used to be intimidated by the idea of people thinking he was lame for not partaking in typical high school activities, now he simply didn't care. Human beings seemed less intimidating now that he'd faced up to a demogorgon with a bat splintered with sharp nails. Not even Billy intimidated him, even after the beatdown Steve had succumb to due to his unrelenting fists, Steve wasn't scared. He could take a punch to the face, or a few, so long as he wasn't being chewed up by millions of sharp little teeth.

********

It was already 11:47pm and Steve considered bowing out early, it's not like the party would go for much longer anyway. A lot of the attendees were already filing out and really, it was just the jocks and popular kids left to filter out. Though surely most of them would end up passing out on a part of the floor and staying the night, which was fine because it wasn't Steve's house and he didn't have to deal with the fallout of hangovers, vomit and a messy home in the morning.

Nancy was gone, Tommy was making out in the corner somewhere and Steve's night had come to a grinding halt. He was tired of making small talk with people from school that only approached him because they'd had one too many drinks. Nothing sounded better than just simply going home, blasting some music and passing out once his head had drained of all thoughts. 

However, Steve had quickly come to realize that his life wasn't that simple. He lived in Hawkins, a town that was continuously plagued with monsters from another dimension and his life, well that was kind of a mess. Absent parents and an ex-girlfriend who only left because she didn't love him, somehow becoming a big brother to Dustin. It had been a lot and a long few months and it isn't helped remotely by finding Billy Hargrove passed out, face down in a pool of his own vomit.

"Jesus Christ, man," Steve mutters and he wants to leave, simply wants to walk away and not worry about Billy because why should he? The guy did beat him until he was near unrecognisable and he was still, after Max's warning, an utter piece of shit. However Steve wasn't the same heartless guy he was over a year ago, not that he ever really was but now the facade was gone and Steve couldn't even pretend to not be at least a little worried. He may not like Billy Hargrove but he didn't exactly want to be, somewhat, responsible if the guy choked on his own vomit. 

So Steve bent down, crouching far away from the pool of vomit that surrounded the right side of Billy's head and he pushed at the others shoulder in an attempt to wake him. It took a few tries, of Steve shoving hard and not garnering any response before there was finally a small gurgle. Well, at least he's alive and surely Steve should have just left it at that or helped to move him from his own vomit but Steve just couldn't bring himself to do that. To just leave someone there who was in need of help, no matter how much of a douchebag Billy was. 

"Wake the fuck up," Steve exclaimed as he stood, giving Billy a sharp kick to the side. He supposed it was payback for the seemingly endless amount of punches Billy had brought down onto his face when he was just as defenceless. Of course that didn't really do anything but elicit a groan from the shirtless Billy still laying at his feet. "Shit."

If Steve could pinpoint a moment in his high school life where he thought he'd hit rock bottom, hauling Billy Hargrove across a beer soaked lawn to his car was definitely it. The guy had at least a few extra lbs of muscle than Steve had and being so damn drunk, it felt like he was carrying pure dead weight across the lawn. It took far too long to get the other to his car and even longer to drag Billy into the back seat, to lay him out over it and make sure that his legs and arms were safely inside before he closed the door. 

Contemplation then suddenly set in set in. As he sat himself down into the drivers seat, sweaty and panting, he thought about what the hell he was going to do with the guy in his back seat. He supposed he could take him home but Billy's house was a little far and he wondered how the other would get his car back the next morning. He supposed he could leave him at the side of the road but by that logic he may as well have just left him on the lawn he found him on. Then Steve thought about what seemed to be the only option, take Billy back to his own house and let him crash on the couch for the night. 

********

That's how Steve ended up heaving Billy across a lawn for the second time that night, only this time it was the lawn outside of his own house after a quiet and rather strange drive home. Steve had found himself helping Billy out of the car and holding him up long enough to get to the front door. Luckily Billy was at least standing, still heavily intoxicated and a hulking weight to carry, but he wasn't exactly lucid. "You bring me home?" Billy slurred, his words stringing together and Steve scoffed, helping him over the threshold into the house. 

"Something like that," Steve replied, stopping then to catch his breath. They were just feet from the living room but even that seemed to far to go. "Stop planting your feet," Steve mocked, a hint of pride flashing over his features and he allowed it to motivate him, somewhat, into dragging Steve the rest of the way to the couch to where he could finally drop him. 

"Thanks princess," Billy mutters, the most coherant he's been since Steve had picked him up from the ground. He's still covered in his own sick and he stinks, of both that and sweat and a mix of alcohol that burns Steve's nostrils and leaves him a little nauseated. He allows the pet name for just this once, knowing it was only due to the others drunken stupor and he covered his nose with his shirt to mask the smell, hoping he could hold his breath long enough to get the others shoes off. "You're not so bad, Harrington."

Steve rolls his eyes, the sleepy mumbles of a drunken man were not going to plague his mind. He couldn't allow it to consume his thoughts in a way that was intoxicating, for entirely different reasons. He wouldn't allow his ache for attention cause him to look to much into Billy's words. Because really that's all Steve truly craved, any sort of affection or attention that he was unable to find at home or with Nancy or with anyone, really. Maybe he had glimpses of it with the way the kids looked up to him but it wasn't the same, it never would be.

"Shut up and go to sleep, don't cover my couch in vomit," Steve grumbles as he kicks off his own shoes and makes his way to the stairs. He expects it to be a quiet retreat to his room where he'll finally get to sleep but it's ruined by the hearty chuckle of a drunken Billy, who he can see over the railing of the stairs, sprawled out and fucking grinning. Even drunk, he acts as if he owns the place and Steve both envies it and admires it all at once. And that's a dangerous thought, one that soon consumes his dreams and twists them into a mess that wakes Steve in a cold sweat, confused and lonely. Yeah, life never would be simple for Steve Harrington, especially not now.


	2. see you at 7, pretty boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve was fucked. It was just envy, he told himself. He wanted to be back in that position as top dog, he wanted to stand in place as number one and with Billy there he couldn't do that. It had nothing to do with the way Steve caught himself being nice back, a slip of the tongue surely, or how he often found himself checking the other out from across the hallway because who wears jeans that tight? How does he even get out of them? This was nothing more than envy and Steve wasn't going to let the guy who beat the shit out of him win his way into his head, or his heart.

 

It wasn't unfamiliar for Steve to be rocked by a nightmare, to have his sleep plagued with the images of a demogorgon chasing him, catching him, killing him. A bat with nails was fine in retrospect, when he had it on him and when the monster chasing him wasn't 15ft tall and towering over him, teeth bared and hungry. Steve couldn't remember the last time he had a night without a nightmare, he'd become so accustomed to them that he barely woke from them in cold sweats and laboured pants, heart beating hard enough to burst out of his chest. That was last year and really, demodogs - as frightening as they were - were a little more manageable than the highly more threatening demogorgon. 

What scared Steve was the strength, how easy it was for a monster he hadn't even known really existed until a year ago, to grab him when he was sure he had gotten away. For that same monster to hold a vice like grip on his ankle, tight enough to break the fragile bone beneath, and drag him to the depths of the upside down to be devoured. He didn't want to end up like Barb, he didn't want to be a feast for ethereal monsters in another dimension, he didn't want to be lost. Steve wanted to be strong, to fight like he had done, he hated the way his nightmares left him helpless. 

Truly, it was hard not to feel that way. Not with the way it felt so real, a strong alien hand on his skin made it feel like it was burning and he could sense the drop so vividly as the monster dragged him down - that is of course when it became hazy. When the dream began to fade and Steve's eyes, sticky with sleep, began to open just in time to feel the hard wood of his bedroom floor against his back. He panicked, of course, yelling obscenely and trying to grab for anything that was near him to stop the threat but there's a force, a breath against his face and a hand holding his wrist and then that _voice_.

"Stop fucking screaming, Harrington," It's all hiss, bitter and accusing and Steve thinks it's far too early in the morning to be dealing with Billy Hargrove's bullshit. "Did you kidnap me?" He asks and Steve, still half asleep and sure he's traded one nightmare for another, just laughs. He damn near cackles at the fact the man above him would ever think anyone would want to kidnap him. Not when everyone found it hard to be in his presence for more than a few moments without becoming irritated. 

Steve focuses his gaze then, willing the sleep away so that he can look up with confidence when he gives a simple 'no'. He see's Billy, hair washed and face ridden of the sick he'd gone to sleep covered in and he tries not to notice the scent of his shampoo as water drips from a stray curl of Billy's hair onto his cheek. "If I'd kidnapped you, would I be the one on the floor unable to move?" Steve asks, coming to realize that Billy seemingly had a fondness for knocking him to the ground. It was a pattern that was growing increasingly tedious. "Get the fuck off of me."

So Billy does, Billy's grip loosens and he steps back. "Where is my car?" He asks, no apology for the rude awakening or a thank you for saving him - if that was what you could call it - instead there's just a harsh tone and a lone care for that stupid blue camaro. Steve should really know better than to think that Billy would ever care about anyone other than himself and his own possessions.

All Steve offers up in return is a roll of eyes eyes, using his arms against the bed as leverage to pull himself up and to his feet. He's shirtless, much like Billy is, but his clothes aren't covered in sticky dry beer, nor do they have a lingering scent of vomit. Steve is clean, put together and it's almost as if Billy notices it, like he's paying attention, eyes trailing the length of Steve's body before coming back up to make eye contact. In his mouth is a cigarette, which Steve is sure he's pulled out of fucking thin air, and he's smiling all teeth with his tongue poking out just slightly by the side of the cigarette.

"You better not smoke that in my house," Steve warns, with no-one around it's easy to play like he owns the place. He doesn't _really_ care if Billy lights up in his house but he won't let that be known, he likes having the power against Billy who, up until this point, had always been the one with the upper-hand. "Your car is still at the party, I'll drop you off." Steve continues, not offering up any real explanation as to why he had taken pity on Billy and brought him home and for a second, Steve waits for Billy to pry for details in his typical invasive fashion, but is almost relieved when he doesn't. 

*********

Thus begins the single most awkward car ride of Steve Harrington's short life. Neither of them say anything, both too prideful to be the one to initiate a conversation and Steve for sure isn't going to bring up the fight the two of them had knowing full well that getting an apology from Billy is like believing rain will come in a relentless drought. It's hopeless and exhausting and not worth thinking about. So they sit in silence, both of Steve's hands gripping the wheel, his body upright and uptight. Billy next to him as a foot up on the dashboard, an arm out of the window and a cigarette pressed between two fingers. How is it that Billy is so relaxed, yet in his own car Steve is the most uncomfortable he's ever been.

Partially it's because he doesn't want to incite round two of their ridiculous fight. The last of Steve's scabs had crumbled away and his face was finally back in it's original damn near perfect condition. There's also a part of him that's just nervous around Billy, had been ever since the two had first come to blows on the basketball court, when Billy's chest was pressed flush against his back and their hips bumped accidentally in the rush of a tackle. It was heavy and it settled in Steve's gut whenever Billy was around, undeniable and fervent. Steve often can't tell if it's just the fact that Billy's actions make him sick or if it's something else entirely.

What irritates Steve the most though, is the way Billy gets out of the car and doesn't say a word. No goodbye, no thank you for bringing him to the car, nothing. Just silence. "You're welcome, asshole," Steve calls through the open window, leaning across the console in the middle. It's probably the most confident he's felt in a while, talking back to Billy, standing up to the guy who had left his face in ruin for a while. Billy stops dead in his tracks and Steve isn't scared, not that he ever was, but that feeling in his stomach begins to rise, twisting his insides. It's not anxiety, Steve _knows_  anxiety, this is something different, more potent and he can't shake it. 

Then Billy is there at the window, leaning down with a smirk, his eyes dark and heavy. "Thanks, princess," Billy says simply, his tone flat and emotionless and Steve can't tell if it's sincere or not. Either way he'll take it, it's better than a fist to his face. "See you around," Billy adds, following it by kissing the air and Steve can't help but think if Billy had bothered to lift his hand he'd have been blowing a kiss his way. It's confusing and paralysing and Steve can't say anything as he watches Billy walk away - he simply stares and continues to do so even when the image of Billy is gone and his car is revving up to leave and had he been holding his breath that whole time? Steve exhales, finally, heavily and tries to compose himself. He's not sure which he's more shaken by, Billy's actions or the fact that he let them get to him.

*********

School was probably one of the only normal things Steve still had, sure it had been slightly tarnished when Eleven had defeated a demogorgon there but for the most part, it was still your run of the mill high school with your run of the mill teenagers and honestly? Steve kind of liked it that way. The thing was, Steve didn't really fit into any social group anymore. Since letting go of the 'jock asshole' image he had taken to over a year ago, he hadn't really felt like he belonged. Sure he was still _technically_  in high rankings as far as popularity went but he didn't want to join in the camaraderie that came with bullying other kids or getting so wasted on a school night that he couldn't see.

Billy however, Billy Hargrove fit into it like a fucking glove and Steve had thought about it, long and hard, and realized that the only reason he'd felt so confused about Billy was because he was a little envious. He refused to let himself believe that it was anything else, Steve wouldn't allow himself to _feel_ something for such an asshole. For Billy it wasn't a facade, it wasn't an act, that was just how Billy was. He took charge with such confidence, so self-assured all of the time and in a way Steve hated that. He saw, in Billy, all of the things he'd hated about himself when he was 'king' of the school. Though he'd be lying if he said he hadn't seen small moments of redemption in Billy's character, like there were cracks in his foundations letting streams of light in. 

They were subtle and usually followed by a check to the ground or an insult, but Steve had begun to notice how sometimes Billy's features would soften and his resolve would break and he would just be _nice_. Or at least as nice as a royal douchebag could be. It was the way Billy offered him advice on the court to be a better basketball player, or in passing asked to make sure Steve was attending a party or just fucking smiling. That same smile that was too bright for someone so bitter, that often came with a sensual undertone as Billy licked at his lips.

Steve was fucked. It was just envy, he told himself. He wanted to be back in that position as top dog, he wanted to stand in place as number one and with Billy there he couldn't do that. It had nothing to do with the way Steve caught himself being nice back, a slip of the tongue surely, or how he often found himself checking the other out from across the hallway because who wears jeans that tight? How does he even get out of them? This was nothing more than envy and Steve wasn't going to let the guy who beat the shit out of him win his way into his head, or his heart. 

It was easier said than done, especially when Steve closes his locker to find Billy standing there on the other side arm raised and leaning against the grate. He's smirking, eyes slightly narrowed as he looks Steve up and down. It does something to him, something he can't explain but there's still that heaviness in his stomach and maybe even a fluttering that he will say is just hunger. He pushes it to the back of his mind and offers a sigh. "Do you have to?" Steve asks, when the silence between them starts to become palpable. He's not really sure what he's asking but it garners a chuckle from Billy, low and rumbling like a small earthquake in Billy's chest and Steve ignores the way his heart fucking skips in his own. 

"What are you doing tonight, Harrington?" Billy asks, the words coming easy and Steve can't for the life of him think why the guy can't just call him by his first name. It almost feels like Billy is a drill sergeant and he's getting in trouble for stepping out of formation, Steve deep down kind of likes that thought. At the same time, he's unsure, weary. If Billy Hargrove can beat the shit out of him in front of a group of kids, then what the hell would he done in front of anyone their own age? Hell, what would he do if they were alone?

"Nothing, why? Planning to finish the job?" Steve retorts, his curiosity winning out. In a way, if he's going to be killed he'd at least like to know when it was going to happen so he could attempt to put up a fight. Though Steve isn't sure that's how he wants to go, the idea of being killed at the hands of a human being when he'd survived the threat of a mythical creature was kind of disappointing. He shakes his head, turning to walk away.

As if in tandem, Billy follows. Footstep for footstep, they're in line heading down the hallway and this - well, it's new and Steve isn't sure he likes it. "What the fuck do you want, Billy?" Steve asks, a little firmer then and Billy stops, hands raised as if he's surrendering. Steve just wants an answer, he doesn't want to see Billy smile, he doesn't want Billy to have the upper hand. 

"You're meeting me at 7, basketball courts in the park," Billy announces and Steve can't help but laugh at how funny the idea of dying on a fucking basketball court is. Why is he still caught up on the idea that Billy is out to kill him? It's not a thought that stays in Steve's mind for long, as Billy steps forward and invades his personal space, causing Steve to instinctively jump back away from the other and against a set of lockers. "If you don't want coach to kick you off the team, you'll be there."

"No, no fucking way," Steve utters, because why would he ever need help from Billy? He was fine at basketball until the Californian boy wonder arrived and since when had he switched from insulting the guy to thinking of him as _boy wonder_? Billy laughs, running a hand through the curls of his mullet with one hand whilst pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket with the other. And Steve is staring, watching too carefully at the way the curls bounce back into place, framing Billy's face and the dimples that press into his cheeks when he smiles. Fuck.

"See you at 7, pretty boy," Billy says suddenly, turning on his heels as he does so to begin walking away. There's conviction in his tone, a certainty that Steve hates because even as he shouts back in protest, he knows Billy is right to be so self-assured. As much as Steve says he won't be there, that he doesn't need Billy's help, he knows he'll show up and he hates that Billy probably knows it too. It's not that he'll show up in hopes that he'll be a better basketball player, because really Steve doesn't give enough of a damn about the sport enough to be at Billy's level, it's more that he hopes it's laced with an apology. Perhaps not in words because he isn't sure that Billy is capable of ever issuing any sort of verbal apology but in a way, he thinks, he hopes, this is Billy's way of calling a truce. Or Billy's just out to kill him. Either way, Steve's curiosity would surely win out.


	3. not bad, harrington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy is smiling and he's offering out a hand to help Steve up and he does just that, doesn't help him half way and drop him, he actually helps Steve to his feet. Then they're inches away, hands still gripped together between their bodies as the only thing really separating those last few inches and Steve pretends his breath doesn't catch in his throat and coughs as he pulls away.

Walking to an empty basketball court at 7:08pm was pretty ominous. It was too dark, too quiet and a looming sense of danger hung in the air that weighted on Steve, making him feel slightly uneasy. Steve moves quickly, stepping under the brash light of each overhead streetlamp as it guides him to the open area. The court itself is lit slightly better, with more lights strewn around the tops of fence surrounding the area, but they're dull - like a bulb that's slowly dying out and Steve can't help but feel like he's stepped into a scene from a horror movie. Suddenly he considers what the hell he's even doing there, sure that he's about to meet his demise. 

Of course that unsettling feeling isn't at all helped by the fact that Billy is late. Though unsurprising, Steve isn't sure whether it's because Billy is just tardy, or he's waiting in the shadows with a switchblade ready to pounce. Steve doesn't engage, doesn't attempt to entertain the idea that Billy is actually out to murder him in cold blood, because he likes to think that he and Billy had come to some sort of silent truce. That they could hate each other, mildly and mutually, whilst still attempting to be civil and that's why Billy had invited him to the court, right?

Steve doesn't need to ponder Billy's whereabouts for long and he ignores that wash of relief that comes over him when he see's Billy stride into the low light, smoke billowing from his lips casting a personal fog in front of his face. Through it, as it fades, Steve starts to see that signature smile, that too cocky expression and in response he rolls his eyes.

"And here I thought King Steve would have too much pride to show up," Billy announces, stubbing the last of his cigarette out under his shoe. He drops his bag down on the bench by Steve, standing close enough for Steve to feel his body heat radiating and it's a slight contrast to the chill of the night air, enough of a contrast to make Steve shiver at least. There's nothing really that Steve can say in response, he doesn't want to incite another fight, not when they were alone with nobody to save him this time.

Though, as Billy looks at him with a basketball balanced in his palm, Steve begins to feel a little more at ease. He supposed, if Billy was really out to hurt him, to leave him for dead, he wouldn't have gone through with such an elaborate ruse of actually helping him with basketball first. If he was honest, he didn't think Billy was smart enough for that. 

*************

Two hours have passed when both boys decide they've had enough. Really it's more on Steve's part because he's laying on the ground, after another hard check to the chest by Billy and he's not sure he can take anymore. It's not that he hurts, though he's sure he will the next morning, it's more that he can't breathe from exerting himself and Billy looks exasperated from Steve's inability to take direction. It's just that they're both alphas and Steve isn't used to taking orders from anyone and he's not sure he likes it, especially not coming from a guy who notoriously hates him. Or _hated_ , at least. 

Steve is panting in long laboured breaths, one arm hanging over his eyes and his free hand pressed against his chest. His heart is thudding loudly, he's sure Billy can hear it where he's towering above him and Steve realizes he's really out of shape and probably should try harder in gym. He's not the only one however, despite Billy taking such pride in his appearance, he was panting too. He could hear the rise and fall of Billy's chest, the sound growing louder suddenly and Steve soon realizes it's because the other is laying down next to him and he has to disregard the way his heart rate seems to pick up. 

"Not bad, Harrington," Billy comments then and he's surprised, really. He'd expected an insult, expected Billy to come down close enough just to tell him how much of a fucking loser he was and maybe throw down a fist into his arm before leaving but this? This was the last thing he'd expected. "Not all that good either so don't get too excited."

"Shut up," Steve spat back, causing a low chuckle to rumble out of Billy. Steve hates that he likes that sound, and as if he'd discovered a new song he wants to hear it on repeat. Shaking the thought from his mind, he lowers his arm and turns his head off to the side, allowing himself to glance at Billy who's curls are matted to his temples with sweat and there's a light sheen across skin that highlights his jaw in the low orange light. "Why did you do this?"

"I'm competitive," Billy shrugs, reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants to pull out a small crushed box and Steve watches as he flicks the bent edges back into place before opening the pack to pull out a cigarette. As he ignites the end, there's a flicker of bright yellows and oranges that cast shadows under Billy's eyes and make them almost fucking glisten Steve thinks. What was that about this all being down to envy? "Coach said you're on the team and we're not gonna win if you keep playing like shit."

Steve wants to protest to that, wants to disagree and tell Billy he's an asshole but honestly? He had been playing like shit. Before the upside down had even been a possibility, Steve had excelled in basketball but battling demogorgons, a breakup with Nancy and the return of the terrifying upside down had kind of knocked Steve completely off kilter. He couldn't concentrate, there were bigger things to think about than his performance in basketball.

"Careful, don't want anyone to start thinking that you like me," Steve utters then, rolling his head back as he rolls his eyes and Billy laughs. Steve isn't sure why but he's grateful to hear that sound that was growing on him as opposed to a biting remark. That's how it starts, how Steve laying down to catch his breath turns into an hour of the two of them talking, like really _talking_ , and not just making some offhanded comment that is both a compliment and an insult at the same time. 

Deep down Steve still believes there's some kind of alterior motive but when Billy is towering over him, his features less sharp and expression not so _mean,_ Steve begins to second guess himself. Because Billy isn't getting on top of him to hit him, they aren't fighting, Billy is smiling and he's offering out a hand to help Steve up and he does just that, doesn't help him half way and drop him, he actually helps Steve to his feet. Then they're inches away, hands still gripped together between their bodies as the only thing really separating those last few inches and Steve pretends his breath doesn't catch in his throat and coughs as he pulls away.

"Fuck exercise," Steve utters, playing it off and Billy says nothing, just laughs low and dark as he walks off into the night.

*************

By the time Steve gets home it's 10:37pm and the house is baron, void of any life or movement. His parents are gone, which isn't anything knew and the fact that they aren't there by the door waiting to scold him for being so late is both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes Steve wishes he had parents that weren't so distant, that weren't workaholics, that didn't work away so often. He couldn't remember the last time they'd all sat around together and actually had a conversation, hell they didn't even know about the fight he'd had with Billy, or the fact he'd fought off all of these creatures and was actually kind of a good guy.

In the same thought, it was good. Steve didn't need the aggravation and he certainly wasn't going to explain the whole upside down situation when; 1. they would never, ever understand and 2. it could get him killed. Steve just didn't like how the emptiness of his home, allowed for his mind to be overrun with notions of 'what if' or inconceivable scenarios. Like one that involved Billy, their conversation still weighing heavy on him. Not in a bad way, more in a way that confused him and left him wondering what it all meant and who Billy was because right when Steve thought he knew him, Billy seemed to change directions.

They had talked about everything; school, parties, their desperation to be out of Hawkins as soon as possible. It wasn't like there was anything there for either of them, sure Steve had become like a big brother to the kids involved with all the shit he'd gone through the last year but he couldn't exactly count on them once he'd graduated. He didn't want to think about applying to colleges or moving out or being anything but a dumb kid for a while. He'd learned of Billy's favorite band and how many cans of hairspray it took to keep his hair looking the way it did even after basketball practice. Steve had shared his favorite places in Hawkins and noted the fact his house was always empty and for a while, it kind of seemed like they were friends.

Steve laughed at the thought as he collapsed onto his bed, tired and starting to feel the ache in his muscles from racing around the court. It's not just that he can't see himself as friends with Billy because he's not sure Billy is really friends with _anyone_ , it's also the way his chest feels tight when he considers the title and how the turning in his stomach says that he doesn't want to be just friends. Especially when he begins to think about the body heat and the way Billy's hand brushed his a few times as they lay together and how it meant nothing to Billy and too much to Steve. This wasn't envy, this was some sick twisted form of adoration that had hit Steve out of nowhere and frustrated him to no end.

Though as he lay there thinking about where that feeling had come from, he discerned that he had kind of always felt that way. When Nancy had left him, yes he was torn up but it opened the floodgates to the sexuality he had always kept hidden because even as he continued to pine for the girl who had broken his heart, Billy was always right there in his peripheral. Billy was always calling him pretty boy and standing too close and flirting in his own twisted way.

Flirting. That word stuck out to Steve, as he settled in ready to sleep, it began ringing in his ears and he knew he was thinking too much into it, his perception of Billy morphing into something that he wasn't sure he wanted but had and it was terrifying. Because it meant that Steve was starting to _like_ that asshole from California with the too tight jeans and bad attitude.


	4. take me home, princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve would be lying if he said he didn't favour Billy's smile. Even if it came after a sarcastic comment, or Billy calling him princess, it's just nice to see him not look so harsh. And maybe, in private, Steve thought about that smile and how beautiful it was because Billy had a habit of smiling with everything in him, always so bright.

Before long, Steve begins looking forward to the basketball meets. It's an unusual feeling, one that isn't completely welcomed because he's not sure he wants to enjoy the company of Billy Hargrove in the way that he does. It's not just because he's getting slightly better at basketball, slowly but surely, it's because the last two practices had been less about actually shooting hoops and more about smoking cigarettes while looking at the stars.

Steve hates that he's kind of a sucker for romantics, for the little moments that light a spark, that give a little hope. He hates it because he knows it's one sided and that Billy is just trying to make up for being a total asshole ninety per cent of the time and that's something that Steve finds hard to swallow. 

It's 8:39pm and Steve is sitting with a basketball nestled under his knees. Billy is sitting next to him, cigarette pressed between his lips and Steve thinks about how every cigarette he puts to his mouth should instead be his lips. Steve's sweat soaked shirt is sticking to him and he focuses on that and how much colder the wind chill feels because of it, so much so he has goosebumps. Billy seems wholly unfazed, like he's immune to the cold in every way - well this was the same guy that wore a shirt almost completely unbuttoned with no jacket in the middle of winter.

They aren't saying anything, for once and Steve doesn't really know how to break through the silence, he just wants something, anything, to make Billy react in a way that isn't just staring into the darkness like he's pondering something. Billy thinking about anything is dangerous, Steve muses and he chuckles. "What's so funny, princess?" Billy asks and there's something slightly darker about his tone, like his mood is off and Steve doesn't exactly know how to deal with Billy when he's in a bad mood.  

"What's your problem?" Steve asks, though he's not sure if he wants to hear the answer, that if Billy will divulge that information anyway. Steve waits and Billy just drops his head and shakes it, Steve feels stupid for expecting anything else. "Nothing," He responds, simple and cutting and Steve feels his stomach flip as he considers his next move.

"Guess you won't mind if I do this," Steve utters, offering no chance for Billy to even consider a response before he's chucking the basketball from under his legs and in Billy's direction. It of course knocks the cigarette from Billy's hand, the butt of it flying to the ground prematurely and much to the disdain of Steve's mullet wearing friend. That's if he could call Billy a friend.

"You're a piece of shit, Harrington," Billy spits as he stands, chucking the ball back at Steve with such force that when it hits, Steve thinks for a moment that it winds him. He catches his breath quickly, not quick enough to offer a retort before Billy is standing right in front of him and he wonders for a second if it's going to be followed by Billy swinging his fists but it never comes. "If you weren't such a pretty boy, I might have socked you for that," Billy teases, his tone still dark but it's not for the same reason as before, it's more raspy like it's tinged with lust and Steve shivers at the thought. 

"Guess it's lucky I got that going for me," Steve mutters with a roll of his eyes and he's sure that if the wind changes they'll get stuck that way one day. Billy steps closer then, his tongue poking out of his mouth just slightly as his eyes trail the length of Steve's body. Steve swallows thickly, wondering what the hell Billy is playing at and why he suddenly feels so aroused. 

"It's not the only thing," Billy surmises, sending Steve's mind into a tailspin. He feels dizzy, Billy's breath hot against his chin and Steve has to try and remind himself that this is Billy Hargrove and he can't allow himself to like him, despite the way his body screamed to be touched by Billy. Steve's breath caught in his throat as Billy pulled away, a smirk playing at his lips as he turns and heads toward the gate. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Steve calls out, though it's foolish to expect an answer really and all he gets in response is laughter. A cackle even that rumbles and echoes and only serves to make Steve all the more confused and frustrated. "Hey, asshole! What does that mean?"

*************

As much as he hates to, Steve has to give Billy credit where it's due. In school basketball practices had become much more bearable, with less of Billy knocking him to the ground and more of Billy looking slightly impressed even. There'd been less taunting, like Billy was genuinely trying and it was appreciated. There was still the odd flirtatious gesture and Billy standing uncomfortably close in the showers but it was nothing that Steve couldn't handle. 

He does think, though, that Billy approaching him post-shower when he's barely had a chance to wrap a towel around his waist is a little much but Billy had never really had a sense for boundaries. It's not that Steve doesn't like it, he was quite fond of the fleeting seconds he had to admire the others body while he was looking in the other direction - probably trying to figure out if anyone else was in the room with them - it was more he was worried that he'd have a growing problem under the towel that he'd struggle to hide.

See, Steve had stopped trying to deny his feelings to himself. When he was at home alone, left with nothing but his own thoughts, he had found that Billy crept in so easily every time. Billy tended to blur the line between sarcasm and actual flirting that Steve had a hard time deciphering whether or not the other was serious and that gave him a lot to think about. Though that always tended to go off in a downward spiral that ended up with Steve's hand down his pants thinking about Billy on top of him.

Steve pursed his lips together for a second, willing himself to push those thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being and to not look down at the definition of Billy's abs and focus instead on the look that the other is giving him. "Is there a reason you're looking at me like I'm your lunch?" Steve teases, noting the way Billy's tongue swipes over his lower lip. It came so easy now, a flow of interaction, however scathing, that Steve had begun to enjoy.

"There's a party tonight, so there won't be any practice," Billy replies, completely ignoring the fact he's looking at Steve like he's about to lunge in and take a bite. Steve shakes his head, tightening the towel around his waist and padding out into the locker area to start dressing again. 

"I heard, I was planning on showing up after practice," Steve offered with a shrug. He'd hate to admit he was disappointed but that was how he felt, he couldn't help that he had grown fond of the practices and the time he had alone with Billy. It was after all the only privacy they did have and the only time he got to see the _real_ Billy.

"I guess I'll see you there. I'll be sure to drink you under the table, Harrington," Billy comments, slinking past Steve a little too close, his arm brushing against Steve's back where he's standing facing into his locker. He holds his breath, ignoring the way the touch sends ripples of electricity through his skin, making it tingle. Steve sighs, running his fingers through his wet hair and dressing, this would sure be an interesting party.

*************

The party is already in full swing by the time that Steve gets there and Billy is already drunk. Maybe not wasted but definitely drunk enough, he can tell by the way Billy's voice is raised quite a few notches of volumes higher than usual and how his words have the slightest slur. There's a chorus of cheers and Steve rolls his eyes, there Billy is acting up for his audience and suddenly he wishes desperately that he was back on the basketball court and not wading through crowds of people to get to a kitchen. 

It's definitely hard for Steve because he doesn't really feel like he fits in with the usual party crowd anymore, even with a cup of whatever concoction has been made in his hand, he doesn't really feel in the party mood. When Steve isn't drunk himself, or hosting, he doesn't really enjoy being around drunk people. He doesn't like the way people change when they've had one too many drinks, he doesn't like the brutal honesty, he doesn't like thinking about Nancy and how bullshit he is.

So Steve stays to himself, he focuses on just on drink and mingles only when there's a song playing that he actually likes. He avoids Billy, knowing that it won't be pretty because hell if Nancy can tell him how bullshit he is, the girl that was supposed to love him, he was sure what Billy would have to say would be unbearable for Steve to hear.

He does a good job of it, really, just watching Billy from afar. Admiring the near expert way he charms everyone and it's all fake, he thinks because Billy isn't like that when they're alone. He likes the idea that he's the only one that gets to see Billy underneath all that bad attitude. Billy is smiling though and Steve would be lying if he said he didn't favour Billy's smile. Even if it came after a sarcastic comment, or Billy calling him princess, it's just nice to see him not look so _harsh_. And maybe, in private, Steve thought about that smile and how beautiful it was because Billy had a habit of smiling with everything in him, always so bright.

"Hey!" Nancy yelps and Steve is sure he almost shits himself, too lost in his thoughts to realize that anyone was approaching him and Nancy laughs, because Steve has this look of terror painted across his features and his coiffed hair has fallen out of place from jumping. "What you staring at?" 

"You scared the crap out of me, Nance," Steve utters, holding a hand to his chest and he lightly pushes at her shoulder as she leans in trying to figure out what it is that Steve is looking at. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to see what you're looking at. Where have you been, anyway?" Nancy asks, turning her attention to Steve then her eyes narrowed and questioning. Steve doesn't want to answer, he knows Nancy knows about the fight he'd had with Billy because she'd seen his face and Mike just couldn't keep his mouth shut. He also knows what she'll say and he just doesn't want to hear it. 

"Busy, got competitions coming up," He says simply and Nancy calls bullshit, there's that word - the one that came so easily when she was drunk, one she'd grown fond of using to describe him. Steve just downs his drink. When he looks up to set down his empty cup, Billy is there looking right at him and Steve tries not to choke on the mouthful he'd taken because Billy is winking at him and there's a small smirk playing on his lips and Steve can feel the fucking heat rising in his cheeks. The worst part, Nancy notices it.

"What- What is that all about?" She asks, her tone accusing and Steve closes his eyes, this was exactly what he didn't want. He doesn't want to explain that he and Billy had an understanding, that they were good even. "You're not friends with him now, are you?"

"It's... It's not like that, Nance. It's complicated," Steve mutters, the last part he hopes is quiet enough to be drowned out by the shouts of those around them but Nancy hears it and he hates how well she knows him, how well she understands him. 

"Are you out of your mind? You like him don't you," Nancy says in a hushed tone, leaning in close to Steve. He bows his head because it's true and he can't deny it, not when he'd already admitted it to himself.

"I don't want to," He replies, eyeing Nancy for a moment and she seems disappointed but Steve can't think about that, can't let himself be consumed by what an ex thinks of him and his relationship choices. He can't help thinking that he wouldn't be in this mess if Nancy had loved him.

"But you do," she adds, crossing her arms over the chest and all Steve can do is nod.

"I do."

*************

It's 11:38 when Steve decides to head home, the party is still going but Steve is all partied out. Nancy hadn't been the most supportive about his feelings and while it was expected it still hurt to hear regardless. All Steve wants to do is go home, he doesn't want to think of Nancy grilling him about Billy, or advising him to stay away. Tonight he doesn't even want to think about Billy and his hands and how they would feel holding his own. He didn't want to think about it because it was all silly, a stupid crush that would fade just like high school would as soon as senior year had ended. He'd never see Billy again, Steve was sure he could wait it out - it wasn't that much longer after all.

Moving on was easier said than done, with teen hormones raging inside of him, Steve still hadn't fully moved on from Nancy and it was clear in the way he compared everything to her even now. The only thing he didn't compare to her was Billy because he couldn't possibly be held up against Nancy, two completely different people, from completely different worlds who allowed Steve to see completely different sides of them. And it isn't helped when Billy is right there, slinging an arm around his shoulders and marching out onto the front lawn with him. He's laughing, though Steve isn't sure what it is he's laughing at, but he doesn't ask.

"Take me home, princess," Billy slurs, leaning even closer than he already is and Steve stumbles because Billy's whole weight is on his side and it's more than Steve can hold up. He thinks that it's better than carrying the dead weight of the other completely passed out. At least this Billy is lucid and walking himself to Steve's car. "You did it before."

"Last time you were laying in a pool of your own vomit, can't you just crash on the floor here?" Steve asks, hoping that Billy will take the hint because Steve isn't in the mood to deal with the other - not tonight. Not that it matters and not that Billy ever pays him any attention because he's there, opening Steve's car door and slipping into the passenger seat.

"You coming or what?" Billy asks, leaning out of the window and Steve fucking hates that he just allows it, against his better judgement just nodding and moving around to the drivers side. Sure that he's going to regret this in the morning.

The drive isn't too long and Steve is glad that he's sober enough to make it with enough speed, he has the window down on the passenger side hoping that it'll sober Billy up too. He's slumped down in the seat, struggling to keep his eyes open, both feet propped up on the dashboard. For a moment he's worried, that big brotherly instinct that he has with the kids suddenly kicking in as he snaps his fingers to wake Billy up.

"Hey asshole, don't you dare puke in my car," Steve teases and Billy just lifts a hand, half-assed and tired, to wave Steve off. He hushes him before pulling his demin jacket tighter around him and Steve ignores how fucking sweet it is to see the other in a slightly more vulnerable position than early. Billy huffs then, begging for the window to be closed and Steve obliges, pressing the button on the centre console to roll it up. For the most part it's silent, Billy is crashing clearly and no longer acting out obnoxiously. Steve is grateful for it, the silence and he kind of relishes in the fact that the other trusts him enough to drive him home when he's drunk.

"Harrington," Billy says suddenly, breaking the silence between them and Steve chuckles as he notes the slur in Billy's voice. For some reason, Steve doesn't feel anxious as he had in that bathroom with Nancy, he doesn't feel the need to brace himself for bad news. It's a new feeling and not one that Steve is all that sure of until Billy mumbles and speaks again; "The thought of kissing you won't leave my head."


	5. i'm thinking about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve didn't really sleep that night, spending most of it tossing and turning whilst downstairs Billy was passed out - dead to the world for a short while. It was hard to settle down when his mind was running a million miles a minute, cursed with the predicament of whether or not he should ask Billy about it in the morning. Not that he gets the chance to because when he eventually does wake from getting a little sleep, Billy is already gone and Steve feels kind of empty.

_The thought of kissing you won't leave my head._ It's a week after those words are uttered, slurred even, from the passenger in Steve's car and he's continued to agonise over it. No matter how hard he tries, Steve just can't seem to come up with a rational explanation for Billy stringing that phrase together. He wants to blame it all on the alcohol, that Billy's intoxicated state is the sole cause for him saying those words but Steve can't help how his mind is drawn back to Nancy and her brutal honesty while she was inebriated and berating him. 

Steve didn't really sleep that night, spending most of it tossing and turning whilst downstairs Billy was passed out - dead to the world for a short while. It was hard to settle down when his mind was running a million miles a minute, cursed with the predicament of whether or not he should ask Billy about it in the morning. Not that he gets the chance to because when he eventually does wake from getting a little sleep, Billy is already gone and Steve feels kind of _empty_.

Their practices had resumed as normal, two a week with Steve working his hardest to to be better, to trick shot around Billy and it's a nice distraction from the way his head is swimming incessantly, always circulating back to the fact that the thought of kissing Billy won't leave his head either. Steve channels it, using it to swat the ball out from under Billy's hand and cross around him to shoot for a score. There's a loud 'woo!' that comes from behind him and he looks around to see Billy grinning, panting and looking far too ecstatic. "Shit, Harrington. I didn't think you had it in you."

All Steve offers in return is a smile, looking down almost sheepishly. He's not used to being praised, especially not by Billy but he takes it. Though, looking down he doesn't notice the other approaching, not until Billy's hand is patting him on the back in silent recognition. For a second, when Steve looks up, he thinks he see's a glimmer of something akin to pride flash across Billy's features as their gazes lock but soon enough Billy is turning away and slipping into competition mode once again. 

It continues like that, just as any other practice does, with Billy shouting out little tips to help Steve with his next move and Steve tries, a few times, until he eventually gets it. Billy teaches him something new, or attempts to, until they've both had enough and they're laying on the ground breathing heavy, worn out from all the hard work and while Steve is relieved to have a break he's suddenly struck with the crushing reality of the confusing mess between them as all his thoughts come crashing back into his mind.

Steve considers what it would be like to kiss Billy, all heat and grabbing hands and a fight to take charge - Billy would win, god Steve knows he would and he'd be okay with that. It's the one thing he would accept Billy winning. He wonders if Billy has had similar thoughts, if he's ever kept awake at night from sordid dreams and unavoidable issues. He wonders if Billy ever acts on them, if he whispers Steve's name when he's alone and Steve has to stop himself from wondering that in case he gets fucking hard right in front of the other.

There are eyes boring into the side of his head the entire time and Steve doesn't even notice, too lost in the idea of Billy writhing against his sheets to really care about what was going on around him. Then Billy is there, head tilted and questioning and Steve just catches it out of the corner of his eye as Billy opens his mouth to speak. "Tell me you're not thinking about Nancy," it's simple and it cuts, though Billy's exasperated tone sounds about right - Steve shouldn't think about Nancy anymore. And he's not, she was a fleeting afterthought on rainy days, like grey clouds moving out, Billy? Well, Billy was becoming the sun that was streaming through the density of them, shining into Steve's life and his god damn heart.

"No," Steve laughs, turning his head to the side to see Billy lighting up a cigarette. It was routine now, Steve was so used to it; basketball, a cigarette, small talk under the stars until it's too cold to stay. "I'm thinking about you."

Billy scoffs, like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard and Steve ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach. "Why would you do that?" Billy asks, his tone a little forbidding and Steve feels foolish for ever letting Billy into his head. The thing was, Steve didn't know how to stop. Billy had planted a seed and it had rooted, connecting to every fibre of him and growing steadily with every passing day. Steve wanted that tree to blossom, not wilt away when rejection came.

"I just can't figure out why you're doing this," Steve says after a moment of silence, having contemplated the direction he would go. He could have brought up the words of a drunken man but the likelihood of Billy denying it was all too high. 

Billy shrugs in response, turning the cigarette between his fingers as he ponders what to say. Steve hates the waiting, seconds feel like hours and there's a weight on his shoulders that's all too heavy. "I fucked up with how far I went with that fight, I hated feeling like I owed you something."

"What like an apology?" Steve counters, nudging the others shoulder with his own and laughing lightly. Billy, surprisingly, nods though doesn't say much else for a moment, taking a drag of his cigarette instead as a reason not to talk.

"Apologizing won't take it back," Billy utters and Steve hates that he kind of has a point, 'sorry' was a word that meant nothing to Steve. One he'd heard one too many times, laced with empty promises and broken at first chance. He kind of admires Billy's honesty about it and how he's not inclined to bullshit something that he probably assumes that Steve won't believe anyway. "I wanted to make it up some other way but I'm not expecting you to stop hating me."

Steve feels a knot in his stomach then, so tight and frightening because this is the most vulnerable he's ever seen Billy. There's something in the others tone that Steve picks up on, almost like hope, like he doesn't want Steve to hate him. The thing is, Steve is incapable of hating anyone - not even his absent parents, or the fair-weather friends that only bother with him whenever he's on top. "I don't hate you," Steve says simply and Billy seems shocked, looking over at Steve with slightly widened eyes, curls falling into them as he turns. "I kind of hate that I don't hate you, never really did."

**************

Billy shows up at school the next day, the same as always. Tight jeans, leather jacket and a confidence that shone effortlessly to say he owned the damn place. As he marches through the hallway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, bubblegum girls twirl their hair around their fingers and watch in admiration. Steve hears their comments, the crude way they leer at Billy as he passes and the way he winks at them in appreciation. Steve hates it because it's as if the other night had never happened, that Billy had never let his guard down long enough for Steve to see that gentler side of him.

It's not that Steve expects Billy to be any different in public to what he usually is, he just can't seem to understand why Billy has to put up such a front when he is at school. He wonders one day about asking Max but thinks better of it, knowing she'd probably run right to Billy and he doesn't particularly want to deal with the aggravation of it. He especially doesn't need Max finding out what Nancy knows. "God it's like watching a nature documentary," She says and Steve stifles a laugh behind his hand because it is, the similarities are far too uncanny. 

Steve spends the next few days ignoring it, avoiding Billy at every chance he gets. He tells himself that it's because his grades are low and he can't allow his head to be taken up by anything other than his studies but in reality he just doesn't want to see, or hear or think about Billy flirting with anyone else. He didn't even want to hear a passing comment, didn't want to feel that pull in his heart when Billy called him princess because it wasn't laced with hostility anymore but something else entirely, it was almost affectionate under the sarcastic tone Billy delivered it with. 

It works out, avoiding Billy. For a few days and a couple of skipped in-school practices, Steve barely see's that curly haired fucker and he's kind of grateful for the break just to breathe. Even if at night, when his head hit the pillow, the thoughts of Billy came back, he was at least glad that during the day he could focus his mind elsewhere for a few hours. Though Steve knows he can't possibly avoid Billy forever and he had thought about the possible things each of them would say when they did finally come together again but Steve willed himself to forget hypotheticals because nothing ever went the way he thought it did. Not when he'd expected to next see Billy at night, on a basketball court, when instead he see's Billy after school leaning against his car with a cigarette pressed between his lips.

"You're avoiding me," Billy says simply, all knowing and Steve hates it because he's exhausted, just wanting to climb in his car and drive home but Billy is hard to shake once he's there. 

"Where did you get that idea?" Steve asks, playing the fool and ignoring the way Billy had come to know him better than he liked to admit. Steve knows deep down how inherently bad it is for him to like someone like Billy, so aloof and uncaring, but there's something that always pulls him in. Like magnets. The old cliche 'opposites' attract always tends to come to mind and Steve hates how cliche it is. But that's just it, Billy is his polar opposite - Billy cares too much about unimportant remedial things, like being on top of a school he only recently moved to and Steve cares too much about the things that matter, like his heart.

Yet there was still something about Billy that Steve had become quite fond of, or a few things really, as much as he tended to despise the way Billy acted in public, his heart still warmed to see that stupid smile, hear that ridiculous laugh and see that ass in those jeans that were too tight it should be criminal. "You haven't been in gym, I wanted to make sure you were still coming tonight."

"Why do you care?" Steve asks, shaking his head then as he moves by Billy to open the drivers side door. But Billy is right there, so fast that Steve is sure he must have blinked and missed the movement, and he's got a hand on the window slamming the door shut again. Steve sighs, frustrated and exhausted and not wanting to make a scene in the parking lot of the school. The last thing he needs is for people to talk, to stir up another fight between them because it wouldn't be the first time something like that had happened and he knew not to underestimate the power of Chinese whispers and what it would come to.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is princess but whatever it is, drop it," Billy says, tone firm and authoritative and Steve purses his lips together trying not to enjoy the sound, trying not to think of Billy speaking that way in another situation. "Be there an hour earlier tonight, make up for you flaking out of gym." Steve wants to protest, wants to stay inside and not worry about the confusing mess that is sure to follow from another practice with Billy, but he doesn't. Steve knows that, against his better judgement, he'll be there at fucking 5:55pm and he'll wait until Billy strolls in, late, flicking the curls out of his face with a shake of his head and a cigarette hanging from his plump lips. 

**************

It's 6:08pm when Steve pushes open the large gate to the basketball court, winter is really moulding into spring and the nights aren't so dark so early anymore. It's nice, there's still a little light out and the sky is filled with bright oranges and pinks. Steve thinks the view isn't half bad but as he see's Billy already waiting, laid out on one of the benches with one leg over the back of it, he considers that an average sunset has nothing on the features of one Billy Hargrove. It's stupid, he thinks, because Billy is all hard edges and defined muscle and the sky is a beautiful blend of colour, soft and refined but it reminds him too much of Nancy and lately, he hadn't felt a thing for her. Steve only felt something for that mullet wearing asshole with a jaw so sharp it could cut through butter.

Steve approaches slowly, watching the way that Billy puffs smoke out of his mouth after taking a long drag and how it curls and fades as it rises. "They'll kill you one day," Steve teases and Billy scoffs, flicking the butt toward Steve as he sits up. Steve isn't even mad, mostly because it completely misses him and rolls near his foot, but mostly he's not mad because he knows it isn't done with any malicious intent. He sets his bag down, rooting through it to pull out some water and a basketball and Billy is watching him. Steve isn't sure if he should find it unsettling, because he's not answering the question and he's not eyeing him up and down like he usually is, he's just staring.

"What?" Steve asks suddenly, turning his head just slightly in Billy's direction with his eyes narrowed. He wants Billy to stop, not because he doesn't like being stared at, it's more that he doesn't like the way his heart is beating so fast and loud enough that the other might actually hear it. Billy just shrugs, shaking his head then as he stands and that's that. Billy isn't staring anymore and Steve feels like he can breathe for a second, running a hand through his tousled hair. Billy is still right there next to him, grabbing for the basketball to run into the court to shoot a couple of hoops on his own. Steve is dumbfounded, a little confused and unable to process what it is that is going on between them and how there's this kind of air of tension that Steve isn't sure is sexual and there goes another night of over thinking.

Practice, surprisingly, goes as normal after that. They resume where they'd last left off and Steve even apologises, in a way, for not showing up to in-school practices. He makes up some bullshit excuse about needed to focus on his grades, something he'd been telling himself to keep his mind off of Billy for a few days, and Billy seemingly believes it. He can't tell if he's pretending or just that gullible, either way he doesn't press it. There's more praise, Steve notices, with Billy actively letting him know when he's impressed with Steve's progress and he likes it, likes being told he's doing well even when he already knows he was never that bad. Steve wants to ask why Billy puts up such a front at school, why he's so determined to be painted as the asshole that Steve was slowly discovering he wasn't but he doesn't know how without pissing the other off.

In no time it's dark, the overhead street lamps lighting the court and casting shadows under the definition of the others features and there's something frighteningly beautiful about it that Steve doesn't really expect. Their practice has mostly drawn to a close but Billy was adamant about teaching him a trick shot, of scoring facing away from the hoop, that he could use and Steve agreed just because it meant a little extra time on the court. They're both sweaty, disgusting and panting, neither one of them can catch their breath between laughing so hard at Steve's continuous failed attempts at shooting and running around each other on the court. Then Billy is there, practically fucking beaming as he's standing right in front of him and his hands against Steve's arms to hold them up for the demonstration. 

"You got this time. When you get to about here, let go. Don't stop and do it, keep your arms moving, you can't miss," Billy explains, it's at least the seventh time he's done it and each time Steve has missed and he was actually kind of surprised that Billy hadn't completely given up. "If I can teach you everything else and you got it, you can get this too," he adds and Steve feels an air of confidence suddenly. Like he can do this, like Billy believes in him. Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second to focus and he lowers his arms ready, Billy has stood back and off to the side when he opens them again and he's nodding watching carefully waiting for Steve to take it.

Eventually, Steve just thinks 'fuck it' and shoots, releasing his hold on the ball when his arms are raised as close to where Billy told him and he fully expects that it's a miss. He hears the metal clunk that came when the ball hits the backboard and Steve is about to admit defeat when he hears the distinct sound of the ball falling through the net. His eyes are wide and he snaps his head over to Billy for confirmation and he's grinning as he runs over, arms raised high in the air in celebration and there's that signature cheer. Usually it's saved for himself because it wasn't often that Billy praised anyone but himself, but then he's there and Steve is caught in the moment of finally getting the shot that he's holding onto Billy and jumping for fucking joy. It's seconds, literal fucking seconds, and Billy has his arms around him and Steve's are slipping around Billy's shoulders and they're so fucking close, chests pressed together, that Steve feels electricity ripple through every inch of him.

It's as if time stands still for a moment, when they're not celebrating anymore they're just there, barely pulling back but looking at each other and Steve see's the softened features of Billy's face that he swears is only reserved for him to see. Billy is breathing heavy and Steve isn't breathing at all, there's a moment where Steve feels like maybe it would be okay to just fucking take a chance and kiss Billy, to discover if the other really thought about it too and happened to kiss back. Though there isn't much of a chance, when Billy is pulling away and turning so fast to run back to his things that Steve is left standing stunned and desperate for answers. 

"You know what, Harrington?" Billy says quietly as Steve finally approaches the bench, shoving the ball back into his bag. Steve looks over but Billy doesn't look up, he's staring out across the court and turning an unlit cigarette between his fingers. "I think you're ready for the meets," he adds and Steve's heart drops, how did they go from being so incredibly close to Billy seemingly cancelling all future practices? This was the last thing he'd wanted.

"So that's it?" Steve asks, trying desperately to hide the disappointment, the damn sadness in his voice. Steve was so fond of the practices, of being around Billy and hearing about him. Steve recalled hearing about California and what Billy liked outside of his own appearance and Steve had a deeper understanding of Billy than he'd ever expected to get. There was still so much he was yet to gage, that he still wanted to figure out and now he wasn't sure he'd get to. Billy doesn't even answer, he's already pulling his bag onto his shoulder and walking away, finally lighting his cigarette as he does. Steve doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know if it's definite that their practices are over, or maybe he's just thinking that way in the light of any hope that said they weren't. "Hargove."

**************

Steve next see's Billy at the weekend, at a get together. A cookout, if you will, for the basketball team. They'd had their first competition with a team from out of state and they'd won. Coach had even commended Steve on his play, all in thanks to Billy who had helped him so exponentially. He of course didn't tell anyone that he'd been receiving extra coaching from Billy, assuming that the other probably didn't want that information to be disclosed, especially not now that their sessions had ended. Things between them had been weird, Billy hadn't been really been talking to him at all, let alone offering an offhanded flirtatious comment every now and again. Even now, at the cookout, Billy had been mingling with everyone that wasn't Steve. Like he was avoiding him.

It hurts, as much as Steve doesn't want to admit it, god does it hurt. Billy has the ability to talk to anyone, especially girls and Steve just watches from afar, knowing that he'll never be them. He'll never be touched that way or seen that way, no matter what confusing interactions they'd had. He supposed the embrace, the close proximity, had freaked Billy out and why wouldn't it? Steve had been freaked out, maybe for a different reason but it freaked him out nonetheless. It left him with a sleepless night and a whirlwind of hypothetical thoughts and an ache in his stomach that screamed Billy was the cause. 

This isn't a party, there's not enough people for it to be a party and Billy isn't drunk enough and the music is too quiet. Steve is once again sober, watching everyone else instead. There are a few that are actually tipsy, like Billy, he can see it in how much more confident he seems and he shakes his head. There are a few people pretending to be drunk, wine coolers weren't exactly prime for intoxicating anyone and he laughs at the lengths some of those guys and girls will go to impress. Steve shakes his head, he's celebrated enough for the night and he's not sure how much more he can take of watching Billy flirt with a girl from their class. 

So Steve retreats to the kitchen, with everyone outside it's all too quiet and he feels the crushing weight of the silence all of a sudden. When Steve really thought about it, he didn't really have much anymore. Billy had taken the spot as king, Nancy had chosen another guy, his parents were always gone because work was more important than their son, his friends, for the most part, were more concerned with being popular than actually being friends and Billy - well, Billy just didn't see him like that. Steve was being eaten alive by the reality that he was alone and sometimes he prayed for something else to crawl out of the upside down so he had something to take up his time. People only seemed to hang out with him anymore when there was a demogorgon or mythical shadow monster to keep at bay. Not even Billy, after all the progress they'd made, wanted to spend time with him on the court anymore and it was really starting to weigh on him. 

Heading out to his car, Steve is glad to be away. He thinks that being at home with his thoughts is better than being stuck at a cookout he doesn't even want to be at. Better than being stuck around someone he likes, desperately, who seems to want nothing to do with him. And Steve is sure he has an easy out, that in a minute or so he'll be in his car and driving off but then there's the sound of the door opening and Steve sighs not wanting to turn and see who has followed him out. He wants to believe that it's just someone else showing up, or someone else leaving and that he just hadn't noticed. He's not that lucky. "King Steve bowing out early, what would everyone think?"

"I'm not in the mood, Hargrove," Steve replies because that voice is so distinct that it couldn't possibly belong to anyone else. Sighing he turns around, crossing his arms over his chest and there's Billy, making his way down the walkway from the door with a devious smirk on his face and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Steve notes the way his shirt has exposed his chest from far too many buttons being open and how his jeans are probably far too low on his hips. Steve tries not to notice the way his bicep muscles flex under the rolls of his shirt sleeves as he lives his hands to mess with his hair.

"Where you going?" Billy asks, it's not threatening but almost curious and Steve almost hears a hint of concern in his tone. Billy doesn't do concern, Steve thinks and so he shakes that thought right from his mind. 

"Home," Steve replies simply and turns from Billy then so he can take the last few steps to his car. He opens it, readying to climb into the drivers side when he notices that Billy is rounding to the other side and standing, with that same stupid little smile, and Steve realizes quickly that his night is not going to end the way he expected it to. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving. Party sucks anyway so, let's go princess," Billy says and slips into the passenger seat. It's so easy and Steve hates it because once again he's left bewildered, unknowing of what was really going on and Billy is not exactly giving him any hints. He can't understand how Billy can change the way he is so often, how he can avoid Steve and then want to go home with him, how he can act one way in public and something entirely different in private. But Steve doesn't let himself agonise over it too much, not right now anyway, maybe later when Billy is gone or asleep and Steve is alone to analyse the situation maybe. Until then he was going to relish in the fact that Billy Hargrove just wanted to go home with him, for whatever reason that may be.

 


	6. i'm here for you, pretty boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because just for a few moments, with Elvis crooning softly in the background, it felt like maybe Billy wanted to kiss him too. Steve hates the way his heart roars in his chest and how his stomach feels so impossibly tight and how, as much as he hates to admit it, he just can't help falling in love with Billy Hargrove.

As Steve leads the way into his home, he feels nervous, feels it right in the pit of his stomach. It's the first time that Billy has stepped foot into the house sober, for once Steve isn't carrying him inside and throwing him on the couch. There's no drunken fleeting compliment to keep Steve up all night - not yet anyway, the night was still young. It's ridiculous, Steve thinks, to be nervous at the prospect of hanging out with Billy alone. They hung out plenty on the basketball court and Billy had been in his home before, that was nothing new. Hell, even faced with demodogs he's valiant, brave and yet here he was, curling his fingers into his palm to keep from shaking. 

Billy is quiet as he's looking around and that doesn't help. It's clear that Steve has money, well his parents do. It shows in the size and decor, Steve hates it - he'd trade it all for present parents if he could, he didn't want to be bought. He thinks it's maybe the one thing he has over Billy, being rich because Billy kind of had the upper hand on everything else. It was frustrating and relieving all at the same time, sometimes Steve missed the status he'd had but the pressure that came with it was too intense, it left a bitter taste in his mouth because it had made him someone he never wanted to be. He wondered sometimes if Billy actually wanted to be that way too.

There's silence for the most part, Billy still not uttering a word other than to accept the offer of a beer. Steve returns with two bottles, because he needs something to take the edge off, and he leads the way into the entertainment room. He slides the door, revealing two plush couches, a small bar at the far wall and a record player in the corner. The latter Billy makes a beeline for and Steve finds it endearing how the other gravitated toward the music before the bar. It's like it's the coolest thing Billy has ever seen, the kind you see in flash diners - big and expensive - and Steve watches as Billy marvels over the collection, taking a sip of his beer.

"You wanna listen to some?" Steve asks then as he approaches, looking down at Billy who is crouched in front of the collection combing through every artist and album with intense precision. Steve thinks how good it is to see the other interested in something other than himself, or just being an asshole.

"How about this?" Billy says with a smirk, passing Steve a Night Ranger record, one from 1983 and Steve nods, setting it up to start playing. Billy is surprised at Steve's willingness to play it, he can see it in his peripheral. As the first song begins playing, Steve joins Billy on the floor. Despite having so much room to sit and relax, Billy seems attached to the collection of music on display that he doesn't want to move anywhere else and Steve wonders why he hadn't used music to draw Billy in sooner.

*************

Almost three hours later,  Steve is feeling a healthy buzz. They're laying down, side by side, just as they did worn and sore from exerting themselves on the field, only this time they're surrounded by records and empty beer bottles and not cold concrete and cigarette butts. Steve kind of likes the comfort of doing it in a home, where it's warm and they don't smell like total ass from playing ball. Steve starts to think that he could get used to it, being this close to Billy but thinks better of it, as he knows come morning Billy will be gone and it'll never be like this in public.

For the moment, he decides to take it for what it is. Enjoying the proximity and the fact that their arms brush every time Steve talks with his hands and the fact that Billy is okay with it, listening even as he spills everything about his parents and how everything had changed within the last year. Billy had opened up too, only a little, about Max and moving and maybe it was the drink talking but Steve was shocked to hear how lost Billy was in this no-good town. Steve hated that he felt the same.

Steve wanted to press but Billy's attention wavered then, his eyes darting to the record player as Elvis' Blue Hawaii hit 'I Can't Help Falling In Love With You' and Billy sighs, moving to sit up suddenly. Steve wonders if there's something wrong for a moment, Billy's demeanour had changed and no longer was he lazy and happy but now tense and defeated.

"My mom used to sing this to me, when I was kid," he started, rooting in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Steve noted how it was his first since he'd arrived and he wasn't sure if it meant something, like Billy only did it when his head was elsewhere. "I haven't heard this song since-"

Billy stopping himself was a sign that Steve shouldn't pry, he could hear the shake in Billy's voice as he mentioned her and he can't help but think that she hadn't just up and left of her own accord. Steve is struck with a sadness, unable to help wondering if that's why Billy is so angry all of the time, why he's often so cold. Steve sits up then, watching as Billy turns his head and blows smoke against his face. Through it Billy's features are almost innocent, not marred by endless bouts of anger or heartache and Steve's eyes flicker down to his lips, open just slightly and wet from where his tongue had swiped over them. When his eyes move back up Billy is staring right at him, with deep dark blue pools and Steve was sure he'd get lost in them if he wasn't trying so hard to determine what it was that Billy was thinking right at that moment.

There's a moment of calm, when Steve's heart is still and he feels like time completely halts. Then there's Billy's hand resting at the base of his jaw and Steve exhales slowly, leaning into the touch almost instinctively. Steve only blinks and yet when his eyes open Billy is closer, face less than an inch apart and his heart starts to race as he feels the others warm breath ghost over his lips. Billy smells like cigarettes and beer and a cologne that is so strong it stings as he inhales through his nose but Steve doesn't care. This is the closest he's been to having all of his questions answered and they're right there, teetering on whether or not to close the gap and fuck does Steve want to close the gap. He thinks then that he could take Billy and all of his rough edges and cynicism, if it meant that he could kiss him - even if it was in darkened hallways, or empty homes. Billy didn't make him feel like it was so empty anymore.

Suddenly there's a song change and the upbeat tune to Rock-A-Hula Baby begins to fill the room. It takes but a second for Billy to pull back and laugh, breaking the moment between them and leaving Steve stunned, dizzy, with tingling skin where Billy's hand had been. He curses himself mentally, thinks of how he should have just fucking kissed Billy - taken the chance and gone with his heart, over his head. Because just for a few moments, with Elvis crooning softly in the background, it felt like maybe Billy wanted to kiss him too. Steve hates the way his heart roars in his chest and how his stomach feels so impossibly tight and how, as much as he hates to admit it, he just can't help falling in love with Billy Hargrove.

*************

Billy falls asleep first, on the couch of the entertainment room and Steve sits in silence, for a while, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He'd wonder what the hell it was he could be dreaming about, if he ever dreamt about him, if Steve's mind wasn't already clouded by the thought of the fact that they'd almost kissed. Steve will think about that for days, let it invade every waking moment and torture him endlessly. He's starting to think he almost enjoys the torture, considering how he continues to go back to Billy and spend time with him even when it makes his heart hurt. 

Eventually, Steve does retreat to his bed and he does sleep, at least a little. A few hours and perhaps he would have gotten more if he hadn't woken with a start, to the sound of the front door slamming. He's unconcerned, he knows his parents don't care if he uses the entertainment room, they don't exactly have much room to complain. If they aren't home to tell him no, why wouldn't he drink and have friends over and they understood that, just another way to keep in his good side he thought. As Steve stands, he makes his way to the window to look out but he doesn't see his parents car in the driveway, he see's Billy there instead and he lights a cigarette before walking past the gate and disappearing behind a line of bushes.

Steve feels his heart sink, he hadn't been surprised to see Billy leave but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Steve wasn't sure when he became so enraptured by Billy Hargrove but it had quickly become part of his day to day now. Days that were filled with over thinking, of pondering every possible scenario that ended with Billy just loving him. Typically those days ended with Steve feeling exhausted and defeated, like nothing would ever possibly go his way. 

What he needs is a distraction, something to keep his mind at bay for a few hours. So Steve busies himself cleaning in the entertainment room, gathering the records they'd played to set them away and clearing out the empty bottles they'd left strewn all over the floor. There's a faint air of Billy's cologne still hanging in the room and it's so intoxicating. Steve feels his head spin and he has to push himself out of the room, just to keep Billy at bay. Even when he's not physically there, Steve is still so drawn to him, heart beating and stomach fluttering body yearning to be close to him. He hates it, how in so many months everything had flipped, how he'd gone from hating everything about Billy to wanting to discover the reason behind why he is the way he is and loving him despite his flaws.

For a short while, Steve considers visiting Nancy or even offering to take Dustin to the arcade. It is a weekend after all and typically the landline is ringing with Dustin checking when he'll be picking him up to take him to D&D but even those calls had dwindled in recent weeks. Everything had become so quiet again that Dustin didn't feel the need to look to Steve for advice or a ride and maybe that had been the reason he'd latched onto Billy so strongly, in reality Steve was just telling himself that to feel better. He doesn't want to seem lonely or in need of Nancy anymore, he doesn't want to use her to distract him from Billy either so in the end Steve just stays at home and he sits, watching bad TV and hoping that the day will end.

Falling asleep had never been on the agenda but Steve had certainly needed it, nights had become reserved for fretting over Billy, with his stupid mullet and his strong arms and the image of him squirming under Steve's touch. The few hours he'd gotten on the couch in the main living room were quiet, void of any dreams and he's grateful for the break, even if he wakes up to rudely obnoxious knocking against the front door. He can't imagine it would be his parents, after all they do live there, even if they're hardly home, so they would have no reason to knock and then he realizes it's probably Dustin wanting a ride and he just hadn't been able to get an answer on the landline due to Steve's deep sleep.

Quickly he drags himself up off the couch and moves sluggishly to the door, legs aching from being curled on the plush cushions. Steve rubs at his eyes when he opens the door, his head casted down expecting to see the shorter boy standing on his door step as he comments; "What's it today? A ride to Mike's, the arcade, please don't tell me you need me to get the bat again."

"What the hell are you talking about, princess?" Billy asks and suddenly Steve is wide awake, head snapping up to come face to face with that smug grin and a thin mist of smoke from a lit cigarette. Steve is shocked for a moment, considering how abruptly Billy had left earlier that day. Now the sun was setting, painting the sky with orange and pink hues behind Billy and he doesn't know what to say, just thinks that it's beautiful. 

"What are you doing here, Hargrove? Do you ever go home?" Steve asks and it's maybe a sore spot because Billy's expression falters, turning angry for a second as he bows his head and drags his teeth over his upper lip. He doesn't ask, not wanting to provoke Billy any, instead he just waits for a response, anything really to come from the other. 

At first there's silence before Billy finally looks up again and there's something darker in his eyes, something that Steve can't place as being any one thing. He thinks there's a hint of lust, though that could just be that blink of hope speaking, he then thinks it's something akin to danger, the same look in his eyes that he had the night they fought. Then Billy is stepping forward, as if impatient waiting for an invite in and it causes Steve to stumble backward because Billy isn't letting up, not even when he's inside and the door has been slammed closed behind him, he's right there at Steve's toes and so impossibly close. "I'm here for you, pretty boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much for all the love! I'm sorry that this update came a little later, I planned to get it up two nights ago but AO3 decided to go down that night so you're getting it now instead. You may not get another update til Tuesday night but I promise it'll be worth it. Love you guys, thanks for reading.


	7. stop lying to yourself, billy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because he hates Billy, he hates the split in personalities because when it's good he loves him in the way that he wants to throw that mullet wearing asshole off of a cliff, then rush to the bottom to catch him.

_I’m here for you pretty boy_. That’s how it starts, with Billy all dark eyes and clenched fists, making a beeline for Steve and getting a little too close. Of course, Steve expects the worst, see’s fists flying and another bloody black eye in his future. Steve wonders what the hell he’s done to deserve it, ponders it for a second while Billy is standing there almost contemplating his next move, but for the life of him he can’t think of a single thing he could have done to warrant Billy coming to beat his ass for a second time. Then there it is, the answer, only it’s not one that he would have ever thought was plausible, one that only existed in sordid dreams as Billy’s hands cup at his jaw and presses their lips together.

It’s all power and desperation, like this has been building for weeks and finally Billy couldn’t take it anymore. At least that’s how Steve feels, as his own feelings for the other had grown so had that irrevocable desire to kiss him, all that Steve had internally struggled with and fought the urge to act on. Not that it mattered now, with Billy’s tongue swiping at his lower lip and hands lifting his shirt. Steve is surprised at his own eagerness as he pushes at Billy’s leather jacker to a point that it falls off of his shoulders and pools at his elbow and as soon as Steve’s shirt is off, he’s shaking away the leather and letting it drop to the floor. Billy makes it all too easy, with his shirt constantly unbuttoned like he’s prepared for this very moment and Steve is thrilled because he’s not sure he has the patience to deal with buttons right now.

Before long all clothes are strewn across the floor of the family room and Steve is pressed over the back of the couch with Billy’s hands anchored at his hips. It had stung at first, of course, he’s new to this but soon there’s a sudden burst of pleasure that is overwhelming and has Steve near begging for the other to make it happen again. It’s everything he’s wanted, agonised over it endlessly and there Billy was, behind him and all too real and making him dizzy with every rock of his hips. Steve would wonder if this was all but a fever dream if it weren’t for the sound of their skin colliding echoing in his ears and the way Billy was gripping tight enough to leave bruises and right there, always right there, whispering in his ear, calling him pretty boy and Steve hadn’t realised how much he loved the nickname until he’d heard it spill from Billy’s lips as he announced he was going to come.

A sense of bliss washes over Steve as they lay on the floor behind the couch, both still naked and spent, covered by the throw blanket that had been over the arm of the couch, panting laboriously. Steve thinks about all of the times they’ve been in this position before, so close but not close enough skin just barely brushing, a cigarette pressed between Billy’s lips. The only difference is now there’s some sort of mutual understanding there, that each of them are attracted to one another but Steve still doesn’t know how deep it goes or why now, after months of practices, Billy decided now was the time he wanted to make his move - especially when Steve still hadn’t made one of his own. Billy’s silent and Steve doesn’t really know what to say, it’s not awkward, not really, especially not when Steve feels one of Billy’s fingers moving over the back of his hand in a soothing motion, like he actually cares and not just about getting off.

***********

Everything settles all too fast and Steve feels defeated as he’s pulling on his clothes and watching Billy do the same. He’s leaving, of course, and Steve should be okay with that but tonight he’s not. They’re not anything, they never were more than enemies turned sort of friends but now that they’d connected on more of an intimate level, Steve couldn’t help but want something more. Hell even a resolution would do, something that would have Billy saying they’re friends, or that he liked him, that was better than not knowing at all. He wants to think that it’s just hard for Billy to express himself, so coy and cold, but if it was that hard, Steve thinks, he wouldn’t have sort of opened up about his mom the previous night. Steve wants him to stay, wants to hear more about his mom who isn’t around any longer, wants to hear more about California and what Billy likes so much about it, what he likes about Steve.

That’s not something he’s really going to get though, as Billy is already making his way to the door as Steve is picking up his shirt and his heart drops, down into the pit of his stomach making him feel queasy. This was nothing but a way for Billy to get off, he was used - that was it right? Steve was angered at the mere thought, that Billy’s only motivation for coming over and fucking Steve is because he needed to get off and nobody else was around to help him do it. “Now what?” Steve asks, his tone slightly bitter and cold and Billy stops, dead in his tracks, hand poised on the handle like he’s ready to turn it ready to open but never does. Instead he turns and looks at Steve with a laugh, one that is deep and sounds emotionless and his eyes are dark again, though for a whole different reason.

“You never speak of this, you got that Harrington?” Billy starts and there it is, the fucking heartache that feels like an elephant is sitting on his chest and crushing him under it’s weight. It hurts, oh god does it hurt, because he hates being right. Steve doesn’t even respond, can’t bring himself to nod in agreement, he’s frozen and wishing desperately to throw back an hour when the other was walking through the door and ripping off his clothes. He wants that back, he doesn’t want this Billy, all fire and anger and almost full of hatred. Then Billy is right there, with his hands at his shoulders and pushing him roughly against the wall. “You got that, Harrington?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve starts, shoving Billy back because he’s been through this before and he’s not going through this again. He isn’t scared, if anything he’s half tempted to take a swing at Billy first but he doesn’t. He just straightens out his shirt and directs Billy to the door, standing with it open and showing him the direction he should walk with his hand. Because even though he’s hurting, he isn’t about to show any hint of weakness to Billy, he doesn’t want the other to see that vulnerability, he doesn’t deserve to see it. “Loud and clear, asshole.”

***********

School comes around fast, the weekend over and Steve had done well not to think too much of Billy after their encounter at his home until he’d seen the blue Camaro in the parking lot. That changed everything, that had Billy spilling back into his mind like a hurricane blowing through a small town, destroying everything in it’s wake. Really that was all it took to destroy Steve. Though he didn’t really see much of Billy throughout the day, in a way he was grateful for it - not seeing that stupid fucking smirk and the way his jeans pulled in all the right places as he walked. He was grateful no otto see him in the same way he hated not to see him, for the way his heart ached and the way his mind wandered as he thought about where Billy could possibly be hiding. He didn’t like to be avoided, he didn’t like it when Billy kept his distance.

It continues, for a week or two and Steve does attempt to make conversation in the locker room when there's only two of them left in there and Billy just looks him dead in the eye and laughs, like Steve's feelings don't matter and like they'd never developed some kind of friendship. It was almost as if the past few months between them had become non-existent and it was hard to come to terms with missing those encounters, when it was back before they'd ever even kissed, touched or held one another. Those were so fleeting and really Steve only really craved the interactions they had because it allowed him to see a more vulnerable side to Billy. Now that was gone, he was starting to wonder if it was ever real.

It all comes to a head at a party, after hours upon hours of Steve watching Billy flirting with a girl, of making out with her pressed up against a wall, he can't take it. It's not just one girl either, Steve hates the way Billy works the room and hates even more the way girls fucking swoon at his every word. Like he's some sort of Casanova, when really he's just an asshole with a loud mouth and no fear. Steve hates even more that he fell for it too, the charm and the good looks and the way Billy so easily wormed his way into Steve's heart. He fucking fell for it all, hook line and sinker. It gets to a point where Steve can't even finish his drink - not that he's had many, only on his second - and he feels nauseous. It's worse that he knows Billy is doing it to spite him, he saw it in the way Billy had kissed a girl right in front of him, eyeing him all the while causing his blood to boil. 

Steve makes the decision that moment not to hang onto Billy Hargove any longer because it was a fruitless endeavour and Steve couldn't hang onto every slither of hope like he had been any longer. He can't even put it down to Billy being drunk, because Billy is just as obnoxious and cold when he's sober and that realisation, though it hits hard, is the kick that Steve has needed for so long. So he pushes right by Billy, ignoring the way the girl he's with yells about a spilt drink and he heads straight for the door. Why would he stay? Where's the sense in mingling with people too drunk to remember the conversation in the morning, or sitting in the corner on his own forced to watch Billy with girls. He's out the door and on the lawn when he hears his name, it's deep and it's the first time that voice has ever called him by his first name. That he's ever been referred to as Steve and against his better judgement, Steve turns.

"Don't leave," Billy utters and Steve isn't sure what he means, though he can't help but think that Billy just wants to torture him for the rest of the night. There's that look, that vulnerability and softness that Steve loves and he finds it hard to resist. Because he hates Billy, he hates the split in personalities because when it's good he loves him in the way that he wants to throw that mullet wearing asshole off of a cliff, then rush to the bottom to catch him. Steve wishes he wasn't so conflicted all of the time, that he could be sure of something, anything, instead of filled with confusion almost all of the time.

"No and you're not coming with me," Steve replies, standing his ground and Billy's expression falters and Steve swears there's a look of sadness that flashes across his features. It's not something he wants to see because Steve is too soft and he knows he'll give in if he keeps looking at Billy. So Steve walks the remaining few steps to his car and climbs into the passenger seat, ignoring the way Billy leans down into the open passenger side window as he starts up the engine.

"Meet me for basketball tomorrow at 7, same place as always," Billy says, his tone dark and a little threatening and Steve isn't sure if he wants to agree. He doesn't want to be ambushed but he is sort of curious, Billy always had a way of peaking his curiosity. Steve simply shrugs, not looking at Billy even for a second as he says; "I'll think about it" and begins to pull away.

***********

Honestly, Steve had suffered for hours on whether or not to go to the basketball court. It's not that he doesn't want to see Billy, well maybe sort of, it's just that he doesn't want to be sucked into whatever bullshit Billy has to offer again if it's just going to get him hurt. It's not like Steve asked for the feelings he had, he certainly didn't, in fact it would have been so much easier if Steve hated Billy with a passion but life never really did go the way Steve wanted it to. Deep down he knows he probably won't get what he wants if he goes to the court and meets with Billy, not that he's really sure what he wants anymore, part of him still kind of just wants Billy but he'd had a taste of that and it hadn't ended well so he thinks that's not the best idea to have Billy again. Still, in spite of himself, Steve pulls up into the parking lot at 7:10pm and begins the walk down to the court under the flickering street lamps.

At 7:18pm, Steve strolls through the gate. He isn't dressed in gym wear, no sweatpants and loose tee, no basketball under his arm. Billy, however is dressed for basketball and he's surprised actually, that he's not surrounded by an entourage of minions waiting to cheer on a fight. Instead there is Billy, leaning forward on the bench he's perched on with his elbow resting at his knee and a cigarette between his fingers. Steve approaches with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets, and he simply looks at Billy until he says something, anything, because Steve doesn't want to be the one that starts a conversation about what was going on between them if it was just going to end in Steve being shoved up against something.

"Harrington," Billy utters, eyeing Steve up and down and Steve would have let it affect him, let it shake him to the core and make his heart thud in his chest if he wasn't so damn angry. "Guess you're not here for basketball."

"No," Steve admits, because he's not. He had no intentions of playing ball with Billy because playing ball meant spending time together, not talking until they're ready to leave and it was so fleeting then, because they were exhausted and sweating, that they'd never be able to resolve something. Billy simply scoffs, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out under his foot. 

"Then why the fuck are you here?" Billy asks as he stands, pulling on a hoodie over his bare chest and Steve hates that the thought of wanting Billy to keep it off flashes across his mind. 

"You're just gonna ignore what happened, or the fact you've been avoiding me for two weeks?" Steve asks and there's a clear change in the others demeanour, Billy is suddenly standing and he's all fire, all anger and Steve would usually take a step back to allow Billy the room to calm down but instead he steps forward, as if encouraging it, like Billy getting angry would make him talk about it.

"I told you not-" Billy starts but Steve cuts him off, holding up a hand to stop him right in his tracks and Billy seems almost shocked that Steve has so much fire in him for once. Like that night they'd fought. "Not to speak of it again, yeah I got it. Would it really kill you to talk about? Or your feelings?" Steve asked, so confident and sure of himself and he's kind of proud of himself for being kind of badass about the whole situation, for finally taking charge and not letting Billy have the upper hand.

Billy backs down a little, he see's it in the way he uncurls his fingers from his fists and laughs heartily as he moves to sit back down again. "What feelings?" He starts, looking up at Steve where he stands, arms crossed over his chest and demanding of an answer. He's just staring because he knows that Billy is aware of what he's talking about, that he's looking for a definitive explanation as to whether or not there are feelings between them or if it's just unrequited. "I'm not a faggot, princess. I don't feel anything for anyone."

"Stop lying to yourself, Billy. Does a straight guy fuck other guys or are you just special?" Steve's tone is bitter, it's laced with all the confusion and irritation he'd felt over the last few months. It was constant and unrelenting and Steve had been wracked enough with thinking about the other at night that he didn't want to do it anymore. Then Billy is right in front of him, full of hostility and puffing his chest like Steve should be scared of him but Steve just laughs. Billy isn't used to it, to people not being afraid of him, to Steve laughing at him and making him feel small and he doesn't like it. Steve can tell it kills him.

"I can't be a faggot, I shouldn't feel like this," Billy admits quietly but Steve knows that he does, in that moment, because his expression changes once again and it softens. Steve feels a hand come up to his jaw and Billy is making him feel wanted, making his heart thud rapidly within his chest. Steve gasps, the first break in his entire resolve and it feels almost like time stops, his breath ghosting over Billy's lips and the others eyes fall closed like he's giving in and god Steve wants him to give in. Steve would ask why Billy can't be gay, or why he shouldn't feel the way he does but he's too focused on how close the others lips are and how his lower lip just barely brushes against Billy's as he tilts his head back. 

Steve prepares himself to close the gap, to press his lips against Billy's and feel just as he had the first time but then Billy's pulling back and he's angry, so fucking angry. Not at Steve, not in the direction of him at all, but still so full of rage. Steve watches, stunned for a moment as he attempts to kick his way through the bench and flings the ball he'd brought with him before heading toward the gate. Steve can't even do anything, he feels frozen on the spot, he can only watch as Billy leaves and call out to him but to no avail. Billy keeps walking, rushed and silent and Steve likes to think it's all because Billy is into him, that there's been a power shift and that for once, Steve is the one causing the confusion and heartache and not the other way around. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this came so late! I left for vacation last week when I was meant to update and so I haven't had a chance to get the next chapter written until right now. Hopefully I'll have another one on Friday or sooner for you.


	8. trying to kidnap me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's easy, maybe too easy to fall back into that light banter the pair of them have, where Billy calls him princess and Steve says something sarcastic and they go back and forth until someone finally caves or Billy says something that leaves Steve speechless.

Often, Steve would decide to walk home. It was getting a little warmer, or as warm as it could be for Spring in Hawkins, Indiana and it was one of those rare days where there was only a slight breeze blowing through - enough to keep him moderately cool as he walked, but not enough to chill him through. The trees were changing, once empty branches now blossoming and Steve can't help but think of how close graduation is creeping up on him. It was tough to think about how it was all drawing to an end and how he still hadn't figured out what he wanted to do with his impending adult life. He wasn't sure he wanted to go to college, he wasn't even sure if he was ready to leave Hawkins anymore because at least here, he could be a glorified babysitter for a little while longer - just in case Dustin needed him any time soon. Not that he had lately.

That was both the upside and downside of walking home, breathing in the fresh air the whole way home, it allowed the time for thoughts to pour into his head in droves. Basketball meets were going well, it was the season for it so more games required his attention and he was more than happy about that. Though it meant he would have to see Billy, usually his mind was too focused on trying to win that he didn't really have time to think about the muscled taut chest beneath Billy's sweat soaked shirt. The warmth was nice, though, once he'd shaken the sneaking thought of Billy from his mind. To be able to air dry his hair, after showering and changing, letting it fall into it's natural wave at his temples. For a moment, despite all that had happened over the last couple of years, Steve felt completely at ease.

Steve never took those moments for granted, as they were so fleeting. He didn't take Nancy for granted either, not now that she was making more of an effort, probably because it had become clear that Steve had gotten over her and was lovesick for someone else now. She provided the voice of reason where his subconscious was lacking and he was grateful for it because it kept him from standing by Billy's car after school, or driving to his house on a weekend when he thought he'd be alone. No, since their meet-up on the basketball court, with Billy's outburst, Steve hadn't really bothered to entertain his friend. If that's what he could call Billy. He was tired of the back and forth, of Billy not being able to make up his mind on what he wanted and since he was so terrified of being perceived as a 'faggot', Steve assumed that he wouldn't be seeing any of Billy at all in the near future let alone in a more intimate capacity.

Of course, Steve's assumptions are brought to a head with the roar of an engine and a slither of blue sliding into his peripheral vision. He caught the sound of wheels slowly crunching small stones, strewn along the side of the road, under the weight of the rubber and, in spite of himself, he turned his head to see Billy leaning across the console smiling up at him through the open window. Perched on the bridge of his nose where aviator sunglasses and Steve was sure Billy was smiling just as mischievously with his eyes behind the dark of the lenses.

"Get in, princess," Billy orders, his car screeching to a stop. He isn't about to take no for an answer, Steve surmises, as he watches Billy lean over just that little more to open the passenger side door. Steve looks at it for a moment, hand wrapped around the frame where the window was open before finally sighing and dropping down into the seat.

"Trying to kidnap me?" Steve asks, rolling his eyes as Billy laughs so quickly after he makes the statement. It's easy, maybe too easy to fall back into that light banter the pair of them have, where Billy calls him princess and Steve says something sarcastic and they go back and forth until someone finally caves or Billy says something that leaves Steve speechless. Steve hadn't realized how much he missed it, even when it wasn't gone all that long, until Billy was there to bounce back again.

*************

Watching the world go by out of the open window was actually rather soothing, there was a light breeze coming in but for the most part the air was still. For once, the pair of them were in a car together for a while where Billy wasn't intoxicated or being weird and the silence between them wasn't awkward in the slightest. Not when Billy had a tape playing through the stereo system and he was drumming along to the beat against the steering wheel. Steve had taken to watching those hands, maybe for too long, unable to stop himself from thinking about how they'd felt pressed against his hips or cupping his jaw.  Steve had thought too long and too hard about those hands when he was alone.

It had been easy to figure out where Billy was taking him too, his attempt at kidnapping had been futile because Steve knew the roads like the back of his hand being in such a small town and it had taken just a few blocks for him to remember this was the way to their usual meeting spot. The thing was, even as spring began to bloom, nobody really visited a run down basketball court where the poles were rusted and sure to give you a damn infection if you were to cut yourself on it. Yet, strangely, Billy had been drawn to there, like it was the one place the pair of them could just be whoever they wanted to be. However, as they pull into a parking spot, Billy doesn't get out of his car or make any attempt to. He keeps it running, though parked, so he can continue to listen to the music through the stereo and he filters through his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Steve notices the lighter in the cup holder and sparks it once he has it in view to light the others cigarette for him.

There's a moment, where Billy is watching Steve through a puff of smoke as he ensures his cigarette is well and truly lit and there's a softness to it that makes Steve shiver. "Why did you bring me here, did you get enough of basketball today already?" Steve asks, leaning back into his seat with the lighter still in hand. He looks over the markings against the case, running his thumb over them to feel each line etched so intricately. He doesn't know that Billy is watching him.

"I owed you, I guess. For the way I acted last time we were here," Billy starts and Steve looks up through the damp strands that had fallen into his face, offering only a small shrug.

"I get it, you're not gay. I don't care about that but can you really sit there and tell me that this doesn't mean something?" Steve asks and it's a bold statement, one that stops Billy for a moment and Steve can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he attempts to come up with a response. Steve doesn't expect Billy to answer with anything more than an insult or another outrage.

"It's not that, I just _can't_ be gay," Billy says quietly and Steve's face scrunches instantly, confused and tired of never knowing what the hell is going on. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he says; "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It doesn't matter. Look, if I like you - that's that and that's gotta mean something because, I kind of fucking hate everyone," Billy responds and Steve smiles because it's about the closest thing that he's ever going to get to Billy admitting that he has those feelings too. Billy notices it, can sense that Steve is getting at what he's saying because he smiles back and there's a mutual agreement between the two of them, though silent, that this is the way things are. They're two guys who like each other and have no idea what the hell they're doing, they only know that when they're together, things are okay. "What? Something you need to say?"

Steve shakes his head, laughing as he does so before letting his head fall to the side, looking Billy dead in the eye. "I just can't tell if I like you, or if I want to punch you in the throat," that's all it takes, Steve's own confession to bring them back to normal and have them both laughing, it's nice and easy and suddenly it's like Billy isn't afraid to touch him because he's right there, hot breath against his cheek and turning Steve's head to kiss him. It's slow but forceful, both fighting for the upper hand but Billy ultimately willing once again and it leaves him light headed, the way Billy moans against his lips and Steve would surely melt at the sound if he were able. Instead he's dizzy, everything spinning except for the pair of them and Steve isn't sure when Billy became a still constant in his life but deep down, he's sure as hell happy about it.

*************

A few days pass and Steve wakes, late in his bed, to Billy's scent lingering on his sheets. Mostly it's his cologne and a little of the hairspray he loaded into his hair and it's familiar and soothing and makes Steve's stomach tighten involuntarily. It's a Sunday and from what he can tell, looking outside, it's late in the afternoon and the sun is glowing orange hues as it starts it's descent. He isn't sure exactly how he managed to sleep the whole day away but he's grateful, weeks of no sleep had inevitably caught up to him and it had come at the perfect time. Steve could hear his parents downstairs, laughing at the TV and entertaining beers. Honestly, he'd yet to see them past the briefest of encounters when they'd arrived home Friday night and he intended to keep it that way, sure they'd be driving off on another work venture in no time at all.

All Steve could think about was getting out of the house and possibly seeing Billy, that alone is enough for Steve to drag his ass out of bed and into some clothes. He styles his hair into it's signature look, pushed back, it's not so much coiffed anymore due to it's length and he has to add the smallest amount of gel to keep it out of his face. Steve tell's himself he's doing it because it's part of his everyday routine and not anything to do with a passing comment Billy had made, complimenting the look with a lick of sarcasm before a basketball practice. Steve puffs out a small breath as he straightens and quickly grabs his leather jacket from the back of the door where it hangs, slipping out of his room and out of his home.

Deep down, Steve knows that he shouldn't really be driving to Billy's without a reason. He especially shouldn't be sitting outside in his car, looking at himself in the rearview as he practices every combination of 'hey wanna hang out?' that he can possibly come up with. While they'd laid everything out on the table, it's not like they were anything. Perhaps they were a maybe, or an almost, they were at least something Steve hoped. Really, he knows it looks bad but sitting trying to figure out the words to say, to make them coherent so that that Billy doesn’t catch him off guard weren't going to help him any. Billy always seems to catch him off guard regardless, he always has something to say. So Steve takes a deep breath, feeling somewhat confident and, though wholly unprepared, and he steps out of the car.

Steve is smiling as he makes his way across the lawn to the stairs that lead to Billy's front door, though that falters when he's standing on the first couple of steps. From inside he hears a bang, something akin to something falling or crashing to the ground and then there's this yelling, though it's not coming from Billy like he would have expected but coming instead from a deeper voice. More demanding, more stern, almost like a drill sergeant. Steve peers in by the curtain, trying to hide behind the cast of it as he tries to figure out what’s going on but he doesn’t see much, just someone’s arm moving, like it’s throwing something or grabbing for someone and it takes Steve a moment before he realizes that someone is being hit, the thought that it's Billy ties a not in his stomach. Before he has a chance to shake that thought from his mind, the door is opening, slamming shut, and there is Billy storming by him with such speed to get away from the house.

“Billy,” Steve calls softly, following Billy quickly onto the grass in front of his house and as he approaches, Steve reaches out a hand to grab the others wrist in a comforting manner. It isn’t comforting not at all, he figures in the way Billy snatches his wrist away so fucking fast it makes his fingers sting.

“Not here, get in the fucking car,” Billy utters, ignoring Steve’s voice as he moves to the passenger side of Steve’s car. Steve notices the shake in the others voice but doesn’t ask, taking his word that here isn’t a good place to ask about it and simply just climbs into the car. It’s there, as they’re driving, that Steve gets a look at Billy. When they’re at a stop sign and it’s quiet, no cars coming or going either way, that Steve allows himself to glance over at Billy to see the welt forming on his cheek and the way he’s dabbing at the blood trickling by his lower lip with the cuff of his jacket. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'M SO SORRY. I know this is almost a week later than I had planned but a lot contributed to that; I was trying to enjoy my last few days of vacation, the chapter I wrote on my flight home I hated and for the first few days being home I was so jetlagged I didn't have the energy to re-write it the way I wanted it. 
> 
> But it's here now and I hope you enjoy it, thank you all for reading and sticking with it.


	9. nancy, huh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaning against his car when he returns outside is Billy, puffing his way through another cigarette. Steve notices the way the setting sun casts Billy in orange and pink hues, illuminating his pronounced jawline and shading the line of his upper lip. Steve hates how beautiful that sight is

When it came to Billy, sometimes, Steve thinks that silence is golden. Maybe, on the odd occasion, when Billy is in one of his moods it would be better if he was seen and not heard because when Steve really thinks about it, Billy is a lot like a bratty five year old a lot of the time. Just a five year old that drinks. This kind of silence, though, when there’s an air of uncertainty and Billy is calm, far too calm, sitting beside him and Steve can’t figure out what’s going on inside of his head? It’s unsettling and Steve is torn between letting the silence eat him alive or risk a change in Billy by asking which would put him at the receiving end of his wrath. He’s almost grateful, when he pulls up outside of a pharmacy, to be out of the car and he feels a weight lift from his shoulders and he contemplates how he’s going to ask about what happened, if he even will, as he rummages through shelves of first aid equipment looking for something suitable to patch the other up.

Drug stores smell too much like hospitals for Steve, too clean, like a toxic mix of bleach and a plethora of medication and Steve has to wrinkle his nose as every inhale tickles the inside of his nose. He thinks about how waiting in line, with an unnerving feeling settled in his stomach, is not much better than being in a car with a weird stagnant atmosphere around Billy. Honestly, Steve isn’t even sure why he’s doing this, why he’s purchasing a couple of first aid supplies for his friend, considering the very real possibility that it would go un-appreciated. It wasn’t like Billy was even all that hurt, a busted lip and a welt forming around a small cut on his cheek was minor but Steve was too caring for his own good and one look at Billy was all it took for that need to help to kick in. Besides, it wasn’t like rubbing alcohol and butterfly bandaids were all that expensive.

Leaning against his car when he returns outside is Billy, puffing his way through another cigarette. Steve notices the way the setting sun casts Billy in orange and pink hues, illuminating his pronounced jawline and shading the line of his upper lip. Steve hates how beautiful that sight is, even with a bruise forming on his cheek. He sighs, keeping that thought to himself as he approaches as not to inflate Billy’s already rather large ego. Steve wonders, as he chucks the bag of supplies at the other, if that confidence is really all bravado and a front to deal with what Steve had seen through the window of Billys home. It breaks down every pre-conception that Steve has had of the other thus far, as up until this point he had been sure that everything he’d seen of Billy was very real and just the way he was. To see a crack in that, it kind of shook Steve to his core.

“What’s this?” Billy asks as he roots through the bag, pulling out the butterfly bandaids to examine them, balancing the box and his cigarette with one hand. There’s a confused expression painted on his features and Steve can’t believe how calm he still is, so quiet even, a mere fraction of how loud and obnoxious he typically is.

“Patch yourself up,” Steve replies, circling around the other to lean next to him against the car. He watches Billy for a moment, as he brings his cigarette back to his lips and drops the package of bandaids back into the bag.

“I don’t need your help,” Billy utters, though he doesn’t sound too convincing and Steve just shrugs, adding quickly. “Well, you’re getting it anyway.”

A few moments of silence fall over them then, with only the swoosh of smoke being blown and the soft tattle of Steve rolling pebbled stones beneath his feet to fill the void. They stand watching the sun disappear into the horizon, because Billy isn’t moving or saying anything and Steve doesn’t really know what to say or suggest otherwise. To anyone else it would seem romantic, considering how the pair feel about each other, but in reality it’s almost awkward. A short span of time that feels more like an hour, dragging with every second until finally Billy breaks it. “Let’s drive somewhere.”

****************

The second drive is better, Steve allows Billy to go through his glove box where a few cassettes lay. They were compiled of random songs that Steve had heard at parties or in Billy’s car and had recorded them from the radio. They all had a good beat and for the most part sounded positive and Steve could damn near feel the tension lift from Billy as soon as the music started pouring through his speakers. For the most part though, Billy is still silent besides the way his hands drummed against his knees to the percussion of the track.

When he song stops, so Does Billy and Steve watches him from the corner of his eye for the moment as his idle hands move to the bag by his feet to grab the first aid supplies. “Max caught me, in California,” Billy starts and all Steve can do is glance over at the other very quickly before his attention turns back to driving. He’s listening though, intently, waiting for Billy to continue. “With a guy. Max caught us and my dad found out, so he shipped us here. To fucking nowhere Indiana.”

Steve isn’t hurt by the comment about his home because really, he thought the same most days. “Why?” He asks, like he’s compelled to. It’s a simple enough question but Billy is pre-occupied pouring rubbing alcohol against the bottom of his shirt, lifting it to press against the wound on his lip and then his cheek. Steve expects him to wince, to show some sign that he can feel something but Billy is stone cold.

“No son of mine will be a faggot,” Billy mocks, laughing afterward. Steve can’t understand it but he hears that undertone of something sinister and it makes him nervous. “Funny, he thought moving us to a small town - I wouldn’t meet anyone. I wouldn’t fit in. Look where that got me.”

“So he hit you?” Steve asked, and Billy pauses for a moment. Like he’s not sure he’s ready to admit that kind of vulnerability, to let that facade of being the tough guy completely crumble, to let Steve know that maybe, just maybe, he feels hurt and maybe cries. Eventually Billy just nods.

“Respect and responsibility,” Billy mocks again, and Steve imagines his father saying that with such malice and a clenched fist and it sends a ripple of something, an uncomfortable shiver, right up his spine. Then Billy is quiet, though there is a storm brewing within him because Steve senses the tension rising. Suddenly he’s all fire, throwing the capped bottle to the floor with such force, following it with a few kicks to the glove box and swift punches to the door. Steve let’s him ride it out because after all the confusion, he finally understands - something inside of Billy is hurting, it’s deep and hidden, it’s why he needs cigarettes and whiskey and music turned up so loud he has no room to think. Killing the hurt, even for a short while, is sometimes enough for Billy.

****************

Once Billy had calmed, settling and slumping in his seat, Steve sets a course for home. It’s a safe space, where his parents will disappear indefinitely leaving the pair of them to settle and be on their own. For the night at least, he refuses to let Billy return to his own home, a place that Steve had marred with danger in his mind. While Steve had assumed in the beginning that Billy was some kind of unscrupulous monster by every definition, no care or feeling, in reality he was so much more than that. Here he was, with a shield for a heart and a sword for a tongue, created out of abuse and hatred put upon him by one of the few people that are supposed to love and care for you as you grow and deep down, Steve almost felt bad for taking Billy at face value then. Steve allowed himself to hate someone for a while that now, he didn’t feel deserved to be hated. Behind that wall he’d build up, Steve had found someone much more gentle and almost compassionate and that was something he intended to nurture by loving him, even with all of his flaws, because while he was a risk he was the most certain thing that Steve had come to know.

It was easy to slip by his parents when they arrived home, heading through the french doors at the back of the house. It helped, also, that they were sleeping and would probably stay there, on the couch, in a house that was theirs but probably didn’t feel like it much anymore due to their penchant for being away. Steve found comfort in that, how much easier he had it compared to Billy, and in a way he felt unsettled, even guilty, for feeling a certain way about his parents when really he’d much rather have an absent father than one that instilled fear into him with every raised fist. Steve turned back to Billy as they entered his room to find him glancing around curiously, he watched as Billy moved to the far wall to look at the posters and few photos he had strung up here and there. Steve was about to say something until Billy was pulling a photo from the wall and lifting it into view.

“Nancy, huh?” Billy starts and there’s that light hearted tone, the kind that came laced with sarcasm, the kind of tone he was used to. Billy was smiling and it was genuine and suddenly Steve didn’t mind that the other was making fun of the photo. “Still got feelings for the one that got away?”

“No,” Steve replies earnestly, it’s so fast, no hesitation behind it and Billy is kind of surprised. Anyone would have expected that his pensive expressions and unrelenting moping were due to still being heartbroken over Nancy but no, he was lonely and he put it down to that. His heart, however, was elsewhere. “Shut up and come here.”

Billy obliges, setting the photo of Steve and Nancy down on his desk before following Steve to his bed. “Trying to seduce me, pretty boy?” He asked to the roll of Steve’s eyes, a near knee-jerk reaction to anything the other had to say. Billy laughs as he sits, Steve’s hands in the bag from the drug store, grabbing the butterfly bandaids. Billy watches him the entire time as he pulls a couple of the bandaids from it’s box, Steve can feel it, can sense the smirk as he’s staring.

“Didn’t anyone teach you it’s fucking creepy to stare?” Steve asked, finally catching Billy’s gaze and the other laughs, his lips curling up as his smile brightens and fuck, Steve is enamoured by that smile. Even as his lip cracks where the blood had dried, opening up the wound again. Steve leans back to grab a tissue from his bedside table, because what teenage boy didn’t have a box of tissues by their bed. There’s something soft about Billy’s features when he turns back, offering up the tissue so that Billy can wipe away the blood that’s trickling down to his chin.

“You’re something else, Harrington,” Billy says, still staring and there’s something behind his eyes. A little mischief, lust and it makes Steve shiver. It’s hard to comprehend the huge shift in their dynamic from how things were in the car to now, like Billy finally feels safe enough to be himself again. To be sarcastic and vague and a pain in Steve’s ass. Then he wants to ask what Billy means but the chance never comes because he’s closing the gap between them, pressing his face into Steve’s neck and kissing with such fervour, hands pushing frantically at his jacket to get it off.

There's desperation behind it, of Billy wanting Steve out of his clothes and writhing against the mattress and god does Steve want it too. Because as much of an asshole Billy could be sometimes, there was no denying there was something in this. It was magnetic, the way Steve was constantly drawn back to the other - they're a little more than friends and a little less than lovers, though getting closer to it, scrambling to feel something together while everything else around them seemed to be going up in flames.


	10. i'm bullshit, remember?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t the Hargrove household, with Steve there’s a sensation of being safe that is all too foreign to him because Steve doesn’t condemn him for feeling and Steve listens, with actual care and content.

Billy’s hands are trembling terribly, he’s not usually a nervous person by any means but there’s always something heavy that settles in the pit of his stomach whenever he’s around Steve. It’s something tangible that he can’t quite place because he’s not sure he’s ever felt like this with anyone, he certainly doesn’t feel this way with girls. Billy knows he’s gay, he’s known it for years but it’s the first time that Billy has ever allowed himself to feel something. Below him, with legs spread and waiting, is Steve with eyes wide, so big and beautiful, pupils blown with lust. The first time this happened everything was so rushed, Billy had been spurred on solely by anger and used fucking Steve over the back of a futon as a way to release his frustrations. He couldn’t enjoy anything about it, not like this. Not with how cautious he’s being, determined to savour each moment because he’d never imagined that the other would ever want him in any sense, let alone intimately. Steve who had been so caring and shown him what it was like to feel anything other than fear or fire.

Suddenly Billy is pulled back to reality, into the moment once more, by Steve’s hand pressing against his bicep, his skin tingling under the pressure of fingertips. Billy looks down at those softened features of Steve’s face and offers up his typical mischievous smirk in quick silent response to the confused expression that flashes across the others face. He leans down to kiss Steve then, firm and purposeful, his lips trailing down to a naked collar bone that is already smattered with purple hues to darken them just that little more.

“Billy, please,” Steve utters through a soft whimper but Billy is too single-minded, working too hard on eliciting responses from Steve with just the workings of his lips. Steve is beautiful when he’s desperate, rolling his hips back onto Billy to take more of him because Billy is teasing and Steve fucking hates being teased. There’s a distinct power dynamic between the two of them, that could easily be mistaken as Billy having all of the control but he doesn’t, Steve fights it every step of the way wanting the command of their interaction. Just because he was on his back with a dick in his ass didn’t mean he couldn’t be the most dominant because Billy is still trembling a little, with hands willing themselves to still by gripping at Steve’s hips and Steve knows Billy is like putty in his hands.

“Fuck, right there,” Steve gasps, fingers curled into the sheets so tightly that his knuckles have turned a white bright enough to rival the sheet beneath him. Billy halts the eager rocking of Steve’s hips by leveraging his thigh, pushing it back so his knee is up by his chest and Steve feels fire rippling over his skin where Billy has his thigh gripped so tightly. It’s the switch in position they need to drive Billy’s cock in deeper, to send Steve toppling over the edge from tight wavering pleasure into pure dizzying ecstasy. Steve’s eyes roll back in his head as he forgets how to speak, how to breathe, how to think, all he can focus on is the fervency in Billy’s thrusts and then the pressure of another heavy body against his own as Billy leans in close. He feels lips, hot and committed, working over his jaw line but not enough to leave a mark.

Steve composes himself enough to take a deep breath, to open his eyes and watch Billy who lifts up enough to look right at him and there’s a hot, substantial moment of intimacy that makes Steve’s stomach flip or maybe that’s just the way his orgasm is building. He reaches down between them, working his fingers over his own cock with his eyes set on Billy’s in an impenetrable gaze. Billy’s hair is matted around his forehead and neck, wet curls clinging to the damp skin where his sweat had collected. Steve watched a bead of it roll down his shoulder and he noted how much more defined and toned the others muscles were with the sheen of sweat covering them.

Suddenly Billy snaps back up, no longer pressed close, he’s pushing both of Steve’s legs back at his thighs with such an unyielding grip and it allows him to fuck harder, with such tenacity and they’re moaning, both of them, the sound soft as they try not to wake Steve’s parents who he assumes are still sound asleep in the living room but it echoes in the room, so silent and dark otherwise. “I’m… Billy…” Steve whispers, trying desperately to choke out that he’s close, teetering on the brink of orgasm, but before he has time to correct himself, to get the words out, he’s right there and so is Billy with one last hard thrust that has him coming hot and fast over his torso. Billy follows soon after, through jagged thrusts and laboured pants and a gruff moan of Steve’s name - Steve realises that moment, in post-orgasmic bliss, that he loves the way his name sounds rolls off of Billy’s tongue as he’s coming.

**************

For the first time in months, both boys sleep the whole night through. Their limbs are tangled in a mess like two pieces of a puzzle that don’t really fit too well, all jagged edges and heavy limbs and while one of them will surely wake up with a dead arm or some sort of cramp, they’ll be smiling because somehow it works despite it all. The night isn’t tarred with night terrors, no, instead Steve dreams of a Hawkins that isn’t overrun by monsters, he dreams that he’s happy. Billy dreams of Steve and he wakes more content than he’s ever felt in a long time. Steve wakes not long after, to the sound of shifting and rustling and his eyes land on the toned back of Billy Hargrove.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks curiously, having noticed that his alarm clock says 7am and it’s far too early for the other to be leaving.

“I have to get back to take Max to school,” Billy says pointedly, like he’s mad about it because going home means he’s leaving the safety and comfort of Steve’s room and he’s willingly walking into that. Steve can sense it, the uneasiness in Billy’s tone and the tension building in his shoulders as he moves to slip his shirt on. Steve pushes himself up until he’s sitting upright, reaching out to touch Billy then in the same way he had the night before. Gentle, assuring and just there. In the beginning Billy would have easily shrugged the hand away, would have made a biting comment and maybe even called Steve that word he hates being tarred with himself. Now? Now it’s the one thing that brings Billy back down to earth and a sure sign that he’s so entirely fucked.

“You can stay here, whenever you want. If things are bad at home, you can come here,” Steve utters as Billy scoffs. Usually Steve would be disheartened by that sound, feel stupid for ever speaking but he notices the way Billy’s shoulders relax just slightly as he puts the offer on the table, a silent indication that he’s grateful even if he protests.

“How do you figure that works, princess?” Billy asks as he taps his pack of cigarettes on his knee, turning his body just enough so that he’s facing Steve all the while. “What happens when I piss you off again?”

“Still. I could be mad at you but I’d still not think you deserved whatever it is you got going on at home,” Steve utters candidly, with a softness to his voice that catches Billy off guard, like he’s never been treated with such kindness before. He doesn’t really know how to process it, so he looks down in silence and fishes a cigarette out from the pack and presses it between his lips.

“See you at school, Harrington,” Billy says eventually as he’s getting up to leave. Billy doesn’t do sweet or sentimental. It’s hard for him to express gratitude or how he feels because he’s never really had to in years, not since his mom was alive.

After that, his silence was demanded as men having feelings in the Hargrove was fundamentally wrong. Billy stops short in the hallway then, with his hand still pressed against the door frame, and it dawns on him that here he has nothing to worry about. This isn’t the Hargrove household, with Steve there’s a sensation of being safe that is all too foreign to him because Steve doesn’t condemn him for feeling and Steve listens, with actual care and content. So Billy steps back and pulls himself into the room again, Steve is there just climbing out bed and pulling on his underwear. He looks doe eyed, surprised to see Billy standing there appearing so confident with this wicked look in his eye but his hands are trembling still.

Billy lifts his hand to his mouth, plucking the cigarette from his plump lips with his fingers to leave them free. Those same hands occupy themselves with holding Steve’s face, firm and strong and assured, he pulls the other in to press their lips together. Steve is taken aback, so still and Billy chuckles once so soft against his lips. It’s enough to bring him back to reality then and Steve’s hands are finding Billy’s arms long enough to melt into the way Billy is kissing him before he pulls away. “See you, pretty boy.”

**************

Steve does see Billy at school, looking happy and almost calm, with fresh butterfly bandaids covering the slight wound. Steve hears Billy make some joke about pissing off a chick and at first Steve feels a falter in his heart, making his breath catch in his throat, until Billy looks at him and winks and Steve is reminded of the previous night. He’s reminded of Billy’s heavy hands being so gentle until Steve practically begged for him to be harder, rougher and Steve smiles at the slight tenderness he feels at his hips as the tight denim rubs against fresh bruises left by eager, yet caring, fingertips. He thinks of how Billy had kissed those spots, letting Steve know that he had never meant to hurt him.

For the first time in a long time, Steve doesn’t feel lonely. Despite standing at his locker alone, casting a glance over at Billy to see him surrounded by people, because he knows it’s all fake. He knows the real reason why Billy has a welt on his cheek and busted lip, he knows that the bruise on his neck is not from heavy fists but from soft lips and Steve is kind of surprised to see Billy wearing it so proudly. Steve, however, had hidden all of his own. Not because he’s ashamed, he just knows full well that he can’t be honest about it and that’s okay, for now. Because in private Billy was all over him, in private Billy stayed the night, in private Billy held him in his sleep and pressed sleep-riddled kisses against his shoulder and that was enough for Steve.

The alarming sound of metal crashing is what snaps Steve from his reverie, curling his body in terror. He’s ready to turn to his assailant in pure attack mode but he’s met, not with a demon from another realm but, with his ex-girlfriend. Nancy may be small but she’s fierce and looking at Steve with a face like thunder and he thinks how, in some ways, she’s so much more frightening than a demogorgon ever was. After all, she did know how to use a gun.

“Jesus Nance, couldn’t have given a guy a little warning?” Steve asks, leaning against his now closed locker with his hand over his beating heart. 

“What’s going on with you and Billy?” Nancy asks quickly, her tone accusatory. It’s so straight to the point and all Steve can offer is a chuckle as he rolls his eyes and his head off to the side. His eyes catch Billy then and he watches as he saunters down the hallway, commanding everyones attention, and Steve can’t help but wonder if his jeans are tighter than usual.

“Nothing, what are you talk-“ Steve shoots back, acting coy like he’s not still watching after Billy down the hall but he’s cut off mid-sentence, by Nancy clicking her fingers and bringing his gaze back in. She knows, maybe too much and Steve hates it.

“Don’t lie to me, Steve,” Nancy says, pausing long enough for Steve to offer up the truth that never comes. “Jonathan saw you two together, at a drug store.”

“Of course he did,” Steve utters under his breath, though it’s not quiet enough for Nancy to miss it and she follows his eyes as he looks down, confused and perhaps a little irritated by the answer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nancy asks, like she doesn’t already know the answer and Steve scoffs as she folds her arms over her chest. He almost feels like he’s being told off by his mother, like he’s some petulant child and not someone capable of making his own decisions, without his ex chiming in. Steve breathes in deep, closing his eyes for a second to stay calm and composed.

“Look, it’s not really any of your business Nance. I’m bullshit remember?” Steve reminds her and there’s a wavering in her expression, like she almost feels guilty and she should because at least with Billy everything is laid out and Billy doesn’t make him feel like he’s bullshit. “You’re not my girlfriend anymore, so it’s not really any of your business who I spend my time with.”

“Steve-“ Nancy utters softer then, a more concerning twang to her tone but Steve waves it off because he’s not ready to hear a lecture. He doesn’t want to hear the girl who broke his heart tell him who he should or shouldn’t love.

“Save it, I gotta get to class.”

**************

Outside of the school hallways and the large echoing gym, Steve doesn’t really see Billy for a while. Spring break is creeping up fast and he supposes they’re both just too busy trying to finish off whatever work they have left that they just don’t have the time to see each other after school. Billy is the same, maybe a little more flirtatious in passing and across the court but Steve feels like there’s a void that is shaped like Billy’s hands and he yearns to have those hands pressed against his skin again. Steve stops sleeping again, his nights filled with pondering what if’s about Billy and what they are to each other and he tries to drown it out with mixtapes he’d made of songs that remind him of Billy but it doesn’t help, it only makes it worse. He feels stupid for making mixtapes, for merely even thinking about Billy so much. All it does is make him notice how far deep he is and how, even if he wanted to, at this point, he’d never be able to clamber out of it.

After a few hours of casual pining, Steve finally falls asleep. Steve dreams of family - not of the one he was gifted with at birth but with the one he’d found, that had been brought together by otherworldly creatures. He see’s Nancy, Jonathan, the kids and Billy. Oh god, here’s Billy, in the fold of it all and he’s smiling as he swings Steve’s bat and knocks a demo-dog flying through the air. They’re winning and everything feels good because it’s rare that they win without the someone, or something, getting in the way or taking someone from them. That’s when it all changes, when Steve see’s Nancy with a gun and Billy at the receiving end of it and he awakes at the sound of gunshots, thinking that maybe it’s a little too real and someone is pointing a gun at him instead and he feels all over his body, for a wound, for residue or smoke but there’s nothing. Nothing but the sound of low intoxicated laughter coming from his bedroom floor.

It’s the middle of the night, 3:07am in fact and there’s something a little sinister in the laugh that had come from the floor that should have terrified Steve had he not recognised it. It’s all too like Billy and leaning over the edge of his bed to peer at the body on the floor confirms that. Steve quickly bounces back to turn on the lamp at his bedside, illuminating the room in a low orange hue, just enough light to allow him to find Billy and pick him up from where he’s laying. He smells like liquor and cigarettes, a toxic mix that burns Steve’s nostrils as he leans down to check if Billy is okay - he wonders how much he’s had to drink and how many cigarettes he’s smoked and how the hell he got into his room so late at night. Especially while drunk.

"Hey princess," Billy drawls as he pushes himself up onto his elbows, or attempts to at least. A few times, though they continue to slide out from under him as he just can't get the leverage in his current state. Steve watches him try, laughing softly all the while but Billy doesn't notice. Billy has his eyes on Steve and Steve is just trying to coax him up off of the ground to no avail, so Steve sighs and pushes that stray curl from Billy's face. It's then that he notices the open window and he's stunned to find that Billy must have climbed in through it and that the gunshot from his dream was simply Billy's body colliding with the hardwood as he fell in.

"Hang on, I'll get you some water. You're gonna need it," Steve utters and Billy can only nod, though he doesn't really understand. His shirt is stained with alcohol, and the rest is dripping down his chest and Steve can't figure out how he got so drunk that he would miss his mouth enough to soak his torso. He shakes his head, trying not to ponder the thought that his dad had done something to him again as he padded downstairs to grab Billy a glass of water. When Steve returns, Billy has managed to haul himself up onto the bed, though he's still sort of hanging off of it but his arms are curled around Steve's pillow and he's smiling with his face pressed into it. Steve likes to think it's because Billy can smell him there and he feels comforted, maybe that's just him thinking too much into it.

Waving the thought from his mind, Steve sets the glass down on his bedside cabinet and moves to help Billy hoist his legs onto the bed. Steve thinks he's much too caring in that moment as he begins removing the boys shoes and helping him turn over so that he can get off the rest of his clothes. It's a feat, one that is very rarely helped by Billy who's only contributions are slow kicks of his legs to get his jeans off and laughing whenever Steve attempted to remove the jacket. Finally Steve sets down beside him with a heavy pant, glass of water in hand. "Drink this."

Billy nods, sensing the seriousness in Steve's voice and it's like it sobers him somewhat. At least enough for him to sit up slightly so that he doesn't spill the water all over the sheets. He gulps down most of the glass in one go, having not expected to be so dehydrated and he pants when he's done, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. "I think I'm gonna take you up on your offer," he slurs, looking up at Steve then with wide eyes. They're wandering slightly, unable to hold their gaze in part from how tired he is but also because he's too drunk to stay coordinated. "I can't be at home right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a tumblr now, so this will be cross-posted there and you can come ask me about harringrove/my fics etc. http://aerivls.tumblr.com :)


	11. i still hope it's you and me in the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When AV club finally lets out, Steve and Billy are standing but leaning against the hood of Billy’s Camaro. Though they aren’t holding hands, they are standing dangerously close to one another, too close for mere friends, and the kids can see that as they walk together toward the lot. They can see Billy staring, all wide eyed and full of awe, like the sun shines out of Steve’s ass. They see Steve smiling brightly as he talks, animated and and brimming with an unbridled happiness that Steve had ever known with Nancy.

What Steve is quick to discover, is that Billy rarely ever likes to talk about home and Steve never discovers why the other had drunkenly fallen in through his window. Their previous talks about Neil Hargrove’s temper and his affliction for taking it out on Billy were never brought up again and really, Steve doesn’t pry. He knows better because if he does, he runs the risk of ruining the good something that the pair start to develop and Steve doesn't want Billy to stop staying the night.

It starts out just twice a week, never on the same days, with Billy showing up sometime after dinner with some sort of welt on his cheek, feeling sorry for himself. It works for Billy because Steve doesn’t ask and Steve doesn’t make him feel like he’s some broken boy in need of help, he just gives him a place to crash. Billy enjoys it so much that two days soon turn into three and one week Billy stays for four straight days. Because when Steve gets home late from dinner at Dustin’s house - because Mrs. Henderson is relentless when Steve drops Dustin home after AV club that day and refuses to let Steve go home to an empty house without feeding him first - there he finds Billy curled up in the backseat of his Camaro, trying to stay warm and Steve can’t not let him inside.

* * * * * * * * * * * 

Something weird happens; the sleepovers somehow change everything. Steve can see it in Billy more and more every single day. There’s some sort of resolution in Billy, like some of that hardness has been brushed off like dust on a TV stand. They talk more at school, with Billy actively seeking Steve out to converse with him in the hall. He stops checking Steve to the ground in gym and instead checks him out almost shamelessly across the court. Billy doesn’t even join in when the other guys make some offhanded comment about Nancy or the fact she ditched Steve for the ‘weird kid’. People noticed their ‘friendship’, but Billy flirted enough with the girls that no-one ever said anything and never thought of it as something more. Billy was still, in the eyes of everyone else, a hard ass with a bad attitude, he was just so much softer around Steve. Nancy noticed the most because, well, she was looking for it, in a silent attempt to take care of Steve. Though she didn’t totally understand it, she apologised for involving herself in something she had no right inserting herself into and in a way, from the sidelines, she rooted for Steve and his happiness, even if he found it in Billy.

Steve almost didn’t mind Nancy knowing or even hovering around him between classes, it wasn’t like she had anyone to tell besides Jonathan anyway, who - by his own powers of deduction and being far too nosy for his own damn good - had figured out there was something more between the two boys all on his own. What was more frightening, was that the kids had begun to notice. Steve had once again become a chaperone for Dustin and sometimes the other kids too. Often, he and Billy would appear almost instantaneously to pick up Dustin and Max from a night of Dungeons & Dragons, both looking a little flush - a precursor to what would come later because Steve had it timed almost to the damn second how long it took Billy to drop Max at home and make his way back to him to fool around. Nobody asked about the looks on their faces, or the mess of Steve’s hair, but Steve could tell Dustin was dying to.

“She says I’ve gotten soft,” Billy announces between long drags of his cigarette. They’re laying on the floor, one Friday night after the kids have been dropped off from another night of D&D. Billy has his head in Steve’s lap and they’re listening to a Van Halen record that Billy had brought over. Max knows too much, she’s seen Billy leave in Steve’s car enough times to surmise that something is going on. She’s also caught onto their glances and the way their hands parted the second they'd enter a room full of people. Max never asks, she knows better than to taunt Billy when their relationship was just starting to mend. “I told her, it’s not that I’ve gotten soft. Just that I know only to come home when Neil isn’t there.”

Steve understands and he knows it’s plausible enough for Max to believe, or at least enough for her not to ask questions because the last thing Steve wants is for a repeat of what happened to Billy back in California. The last thing Steve wants is for the family to up and move again, somewhere far from Steve so he and Billy can't be together. Not that they're an official anything but they're a maybe, an almost and sometimes that's enough for Steve. Enough for him to not want to lose it, anyway.

* * * * * * * * * * * 

On a Tuesday, Steve rolls up to school long after it’s ended to pick up Dustin from AV club and finds that familiar blue Camaro sitting across the mostly vacant lot. Billy has the windows down, he can tell with how loud and clear the music is as it blares out into the open space. Steve slips out of his own car and with a smirk, begins to approach Billy’s with his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. In the drivers seat sits Hargrove, slumped down with his legs up on the dashboard. One hand hangs out of the window and a cigarette sits comfortable between his fingers. Billy is humming and there’s an innocence about it that makes Steve’s heart race. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Hargrove?” Steve exclaims, expecting to scare the other a little from the sudden intrusion but Billy doesn’t even flinch, all he does is smirk and lift the cigarette to his lips. “You hanging out side a school after hours is - what did you call it, right - giving me the heebie jeebies.”

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Billy laughs, taking his feet down off of the dash to turn and face Steve. He’s smiling genuine and wide and licking his lips in that way that always drives Steve fucking crazy. “I’m waiting for Max, but she’ll be another 10 minutes.”

Steve takes that as an invitation and quickly his eyes scour the parking lot for anyone from their grade, for anyone at all that could possibly know them before he places a hand against the top of the others car and leans in to press his lips to Billy’s. Billy responds eagerly, of course, chucking his cigarette out of the way as it lacks the importance that Steve’s lips hold and doesn’t taste even half as good as Steve either. 

When AV club finally lets out, Steve and Billy are standing but leaning against the hood of Billy’s Camaro. Though they aren’t holding hands, they are standing dangerously close to one another, too close for mere friends, and the kids can see that as they walk together toward the lot. They can see Billy staring, all wide eyed and full of awe, like the sun shines out of Steve’s ass. They see Steve smiling brightly as he talks, animated and and brimming with an unbridled happiness that Steve had ever known with Nancy.

* * * * * * * * * * * 

Driving home that day, with Dustin in the passenger seat, is insufferable. Any attempts to interact are met with the cold shoulder and Steve hates it because Dustin is not like this and yet Dustin can't even look at him. Steve can tell that he knows, that he's figured what's going on between himself and Billy and that he's desperate to say something but is biting is tongue. Steve starts to think that maybe hearing Dustin berate him is much better than the total silence he's currently experiencing.

"Go on, say it," Steve prompts and Dustin huffs a breath, like he's so close to saying something then retreats to save his pride. Steve knows the younger well, knows that Dustin won't be able to help himself and not say what he really thinks of their whole interaction.

"Are you out of your god damn mind? Billy!?" Dustin stars, his entire body jumping around in his seat and his voice firm, like he's the elder of the two and of authority. "Also you're gay? When-"

Steve instantly cuts the other off, like his sexuality is the most pressing detail of what Dustin is laying out to him. "Bisexual, Dusty," he corrects quickly and there's a look on Dustin's face of pure disbelief which is followed by the biggest eyeroll, one to rival any of Billy's.

"Semantics, dude! It doesn't change the fact you're dating the enemy!" Dustin exclaims, emphasising the enemy part, like Billy has continued to insert himself into all of their lives, or into business that he doesn't belong in. See Steve knew that the only person Billy had seen since that fight was Max, maybe Lucas on the odd occasion but he'd kept his distance and, if Dustin had paid attention even a little bit, he'd have seen this coming a mile off.

"What makes you so sure we're dating, huh?" Steve asks, annoyed and it was evident in how his tone changed, darker, with words rushed through gritted teeth.

"Oh please, like we all can't see the way he looks at you like you have the moon and stars in your eyes," Dustin mutters, almost defeated, like he's considering that maybe Billy does genuinely like him and not pushing some kind of ulterior motive. 

"So you're a poet now," Steve states, pretending for a moment that his heart isn't practically beating out of his chest at the thought. He'd never noticed because when Billy looked at Steve he saw the stars and when Steve looked back he saw the sun, but the pair of them just thought the other was looking at the ground. 

"All I'm saying is - it's insane to me that you can just forgive him after everything he did to you," Dustin utters, in that all-knowing tone that flares Steve's anger once again. Because Dustin hasn't been there behind closed doors, he hasn't seen Billy vulnerable with gentle hands and soft kisses against his skin.

* * * * * * * * * * * 

At home, Steve has plenty of time to stew over the lecture Dustin had given in the car as, while Billy is supposed to be staying on that very same night, he doesn't show. Despite their plans for a late night drive and talks of staying up late, muddling through homework while records offer the perfect motivational soundtrack. Steve typically doesn't like to worry, especially about Billy, for one it makes him realize he's in too deep and he tends to avoid that thought as much as possible. Also, he's well aware that Billy is capable of taking care of himself and in knowing that, he's sure there's some perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he's late. But when the clock hits midnight and there's still no sign, Steve feels he urge to run for his bat and go out looking for the other because there's a knot in the pit of his stomach, that's riddled with anxiety and it gnaws at him, screaming that something is wrong. 

Steve is wholly unsure as to what could have possibly happened as he drives toward the Hargrove household. It could well be demogorgons an Steve would have preferred that, he knows how to deal with that, over the more likely, and all too real threat, of Neil Hargrove. An image of Billy at the hands of his dad plays on a loop in Steve's head, he imagines him bloody and bruised and a shell of who he is and it prompts him to press his foot a little harder against the gas. He gets to Billy's quickly, skidding into the street recklessly. Crashing isn't going to help anyone but Steve is shaken and desperate and he's relieved to find the Blue Camaro is missing from the driveway.

See, Steve had never planned for this. Never planned to care about Billy, as he pedals back to his house just in case he's missed the other. He thinks back six or seven months, Steve can't remember, to when he hated Billy, when they were enemies. In that time, Steve had watched Billy change into a better person, Steve had even accepted him flaws and all, still unsure as an in-the-closet-homophobe with a penchant for fighting anyone who challenged him or his sexuality. Steve would have never imagined that he would be in this position now, plagued by the idea of losing the other and hoping it would never happen because truly, it was all fun and games until you fall in love. And fuck was Steve in love.

* * * * * * * * * * *

1:08am is what Steve's watch reads when he eventually finds Billy, laying on the ground of the one place he hadn't thought to check at first - on the court that they used to meet at for practice. Billy is looking up at the stars in total silence, puffing his way through a cigarette with a few more stubs laying behind him. Steve suspects he hasn't stopped since he'd arrived, finishing one and immediately starting another. Steve feels the tension in his shoulders leave, feels his stomach fill with something else, something more potent like an overwhelming sense of care and love. Steve tries to hide it as he approaches, laying down beside Billy with his feet pointing the opposite way and their heads side by side.

"How did you find me?" Billy asks curiously, his voice a lot calmer than Steve had expected and all Steve can offer in return for a moment is a shrug. He doesn't want to admit that he'd spent the better part of the last hour searching perilously for the other.

"What happened?" Steve asks, expecting the words 'fuck off' to follow. He was prepared for a fight but what he gets is silence, he gets to watch the other shift and Billy winces as he stands. A concerned expression washes over Steve's features as he turns to look, seeing Billy standing there under the dim light of the court lamps, holding his shirt up to show his chest smattered with dark bruises. 

"Don't fucking look at me like that," Billy shoots back, throwing his shirt back down and his body around to be away from Steve's gaze. He doesn't want the pity, doesn't need it to eat away at him and make him feel vulnerable.

"Like what?" Steve replies quickly and Billy only laughs, because they both know what Billy is talking about and Steve playing coy doesn't do anything but irritate Billy more. Though Steve doesn't elaborate, he just stands himself and runs a hand through his hair as he approaches the other and places a hand gingerly to his back. Billy is quick to shrug it off and it's as if they've back pedalled months and are back at square one. Steve sighs.

"I'm not some fucking project, Harrington. Not some broken boy for you to take pity on," Billy exclaims as he turns back to Steve, squaring up to him. Steve tries to remind himself that this isn't really Billy, this is just unequivocal anger from his encounter with Neil, bottled and shaken and finally about to explode. "Why the fuck do you even care? Why do you stick around?"

It's obvious really and Steve is angry too, because he always seems to be on the receiving end of Billy's wrath when he's the one person who has ever been there to help him. Neil or no Neil, Steve knows he doesn't deserve this. "Because I fucking love you, asshole. This isn't about fucking pity, this about me actually enjoying being around you, it's about me genuinely giving a shit."

"Don't do that to yourself," Billy announces, so calm and collected like those three little words drained every last bit of anger from his body and he's just staring. Watching Steve, trying to catch his gaze as if to relay the same feeling through his eyes alone. Steve doesn't get it. 

"So make it easy then, Billy. Say I never mattered, say you don't feel the same. Say I'm bullshit," Steve shouts, like he's giving everyone in the damn world the chance to remind him he's bullshit. Just like Nancy did, just like his parents, just like Billy is about to. He's waiting for it like he's waiting for his whole world to cave in on him when Billy reminds him that this was never what he thought it was. But see, Billy doesn't say anything because Billy knows Steve matters, because Billy does feel the same and because Steve is the furthest thing from bullshit he's ever met in his life and he's cared saying those words will lose the other for good. His silence is golden, but he can tell it breaks Steve down because it's not an admission of love either and they're both stuck in this limbo of teetering at the edge of always being an almost but never tipping over.

"It's pathetic really," Steve starts, shaking his head as he backs away from Billy, shoving his hands deep in his jacket pockets. "How much I still hope it's you and me in the end," he admits, scoffing then as he turns to walk off the court, heading straight back to his car. Billy stands there a little dumbfounded and wanting exactly the same thing but that was hard to say. See Billy had spent so long trying to stop loving Steve, had built up walls so high around his heart, and found other names to whisper alone at night, but Steve had carved his way into his veins and ran so deep that Billy couldn't stop loving Steve either, because it was never that he couldn't love, only that he was so afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while and I'm sorry. I lacked motivation, I had a hard time trying to write but my love for this ship has been rekindled so I give you an extra long chapter to make up for it.


	12. you're not bullshit, steve.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week later, Steve leaves school to find a note on his car, trapped right under the windscreen wipers. He hadn’t heard from Billy in that time, isn’t even sure if Billy had shown up to many of his classes and it seemed like he’d stopped showering with the rest of the guys after gym. He supposed it was only a matter of time before Billy gave up.

Despite Billy’s best efforts, Steve doesn’t talk to him for days. Suddenly the ease between them is replaced with an uncomfortable tension that threatens the balance they’d worked so hard to establish. Billy supposes he deserves it considering his, or lack of, response to hearing Steve’s declaration of love. That doesn’t make the situation any _less_ frustrating anyway, for a number of reasons. For one, Billy is not used to being turned down. He’s much too used to girls fawning over him, typically he could charm anyone even those that were mad at him and he’d certainly never faced the brunt of a cold shoulder this icy. Billy’s just not used to not getting exactly who he wants, it’s one of the few things he actually excels at. What’s worse is, Steve has the ability to bring out a side of Billy he’s just not used to. He feels small, sort of like some lovesick puppy just following Steve around attempting, constantly, to make contact but to no avail.

Billy even tries teasing Steve in the locker room while the other guys are still in the showers - not poking fun but rather just trying to rouse a reply. All it gets Billy is a glare, cold and unfeeling before Steve is turning back to his own locker again and Billy feels his entire resolve come undone. It was frightening to him how easy it seemed for Steve to pretend like Billy was nothing to him now. But it's not like he's going to scream that he wants - no needs - Steve Harrington in the middle of a locker room. So instead he resorts to almost begging, in the most pitiful fashion.

“You can’t ignore me forever, Harrington. You gotta talk to me eventually,” Billy utters quietly, like it’s something he _needs_ to be secretive about and he supposes he does. He can’t imagine what Tommy would say if he knew about the two of them, or if he knew that Billy was constantly nearly grovelling, lapping at Steve’s heels for any sort of attention. 

“Please talk to me, Steve,” Billy adds then and there’s a sadness to his voice, so clear and sure and really, he hadn’t meant to ever let that out but _fuck_ , he misses Steve. Even though he’s standing just a few feet away, it’s not the same. While physically he’s there, emotionally he’s completely vacant - he’s not the Steve that Billy knows. Not the Steve that Billy cares about and, dare he think it, he’s not the Steve Harrington that he’d fallen in love with. He’s not biting back, he’s not making plans for later, he’s not saying anything and it drives Billy insane because instead of their usual rapport there’s this heartbreaking silence that’s left a void in Billy’s chest that yearns for Steve’s voice to fill it.

Billy is sure he sees something, while Steve is still and quiet, he thinks he catches the rising and falling of Steve’s chest stilling when he hears the desperation in Billy’s voice. Because he does, because Steve’s heart jumps a little like he hadn’t expected the silent treatment to bother Billy at all. It very almost breaks Steve down, makes him say something, _anything_ , to let Billy know he will eventually talk. Just not right now, not while he was still hurting. That thought, however, is short lived as Steve’s thoughts and Billy’s pining are interrupted by Hawkins High’s beloved douchebag in training - Tommy. 

“Don’t know why you’re wasting your time, man. Since Nancy turned Harrington into a _literal_ Nancy boy, he’s no fun,” Tommy says with just enough malice for Billy to take notice, really Tommy is just desperate to impress but his audience is much the opposite. Billy stands, seething with anger, not only because the insult is directed toward Steve, who Billy would literally go to the ends of the earth for, but because it’s so cutting. Because it’s something Billy has heard so many times from his own father. He’s watching Tommy, calculating his next move - what he’s gonna say - watching the way he rings his towel tightly, ready to hit Steve with it. But with quick reflexes, Billy catches the fabric right as Tommy snaps it forward and it never has a chance to get near Steve. Instead it ends up pressed to Tommy’s chest as Billy forces him back against the locker.

“Jesus Tommy, do you ever stop talking?” Billy starts, his tone dark and threatening and Steve turns long enough to see Billy letting Tommy go just enough to shove him back against the cold steel again. “You know what? Screw your talking, you even so much as look at Harrington wrong next time and it’ll be your head going through that locker. You got that?”

“Shit dude, okay yeah. I got it, let me go,” Tommy utters, panicked, like he knows he’s about to get his ass kicked and he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. Billy doesn’t let up, however, he waits instead until Tommy eventually breaks. “I’m sorry, okay Harrington? Shit I’m sorry, it was just a joke.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you? You’re not funny, Tommy,” Steve replies, offering only a shrug as a silent act of forgiveness. He doesn’t chance a look at Billy as he leaves, even if he is silently grateful for the defence, he just can’t seem to fathom how it was so easy for Tommy to apologise but he was yet to receive anything of the sort from Billy. Steve can hear his name being called and the sound of a steel door slamming shut when he doesn’t answer, he knows it’s Billy but he doesn’t flinch, just keeps on walking. 

A week later, Steve leaves school to find a note on his car, trapped right under the windscreen wipers. He hadn’t heard from Billy in that time, isn’t even sure if Billy had shown up to many of his classes and it seemed like he’d stopped showering with the rest of the guys after gym. He supposed it was only a matter of time before Billy gave up. Steve shakes it from his mind, the thought of Billy giving up, as he plucks the folded paper from his car. He opens it carefully, like it’s delicate, or like he’s scared to see what’s inside and he’s surprised when he see’s what's scrawled across the middle;

 

_ “I’M SORRY _

_\- B"_

 

************

 

So the note, he supposed, was never really going to work but it was worth a shot. If Steve wouldn’t speak to him, couldn’t even look at him, then Billy wasn’t really sure what else he could do, so he stopped trying. Billy resigned himself to the fact that Steve and him were no more, not that they ever were something but that almost, that maybe, that kept Billy going in this good for nothing town. Instead of finding solace in the arms of Steve, considering their deal of him being able to stay even when Steve was mad at him to be off the table, he slips back into old routines. Back in his own room; he hides from his father whenever he hears the knock at the door, he behaves himself, stays quiet and, though he hates to do it, talks to Max like shit again just to keep her in check so he doesn’t have to face whatever wrath his father has to throw at him. 

The psychological torment his father brings down upon him is to be expected, he’s dealt with it almost his entire life but it doesn’t get any easier. Especially not when it had been cut down to a minimum, in ways Billy would much rather be hit, or bruised, or smattered with scars from his own cigarettes that his father just had to put out on his skin, not in an ashtray. At least those scars would heal, eventually, but the psychological and emotional scars? They’d stay. Billy used to retaliate to all of it, would be combative, would make it worse for himself but he couldn’t anymore, he had no fight left in him. 

Max had noticed that, the lack of fight. Though she didn’t know about the physical abuse, Max knew all about the emotional. She heard the hatred in Neil’s voice whenever he took to calling Billy words she didn’t totally understand, the walls were thin enough and often, Neil wouldn’t hear her come home or wouldn't even know she was in her room due to how quiet she was. She’d been exposed to more than enough fights between the two, she wasn't stupid. That’s all she thought they were, Max was so used to hearing Billy bite back to the insults, to the way Neil talked down to him but lately? She wasn’t so sure that’s all it was anymore. 

Most of all, Max noticed how Billy had changed, how he’d slipped back into the way he was when they’d first arrived in Hawkins. An asshole with a bad attitude that didn’t smile, didn’t care but this time, it wasn’t because he was mad that he’d been moved across country, this time Max knew it was because deep down Billy was hurting. All of the kids knew that he and Steve had been spending practically all of their time together and after what Max had seen in California, it wasn’t hard to surmise that they were together but Max wasn’t so quick to say anything this time. For one, she didn’t want to move again and second, she had no idea that moving would have been the result, among other things, to Billy being caught.  In a way she felt somewhat responsible, though she was just as stubborn as Billy was and would never admit it.

The hardest thing, though? The hardest part was on the worst nights, Max knowingly watched Billy sneak out to his car when Neil was coming through the door. How he’d sleep out there, in the cold. How he’d still be there in the morning and sometimes would go to school in the same clothes from the day before, with a crick in his neck and though she couldn’t talk to him, knowing it would get her nowhere, she knew there was someone she could talk to. She had to talk to Steve and Steve had to make things right, because she’d be damned if she said she didn’t actually like Billy when he was happy and fucking fawning over Steve Harrington. 

 

************

 

If there’s one thing to note about Steve, it’s that he’s not nearly as tough as he seems. See, despite readily wielding a nail ridden bat when other-worldly creatures think to attack his friends, in reality he’s soft as shit. Really, catching Steve off guard is really all it takes to startle him. This occasion is no different and it happens so fast that Steve doesn’t notice anyone approaching his car. Sitting in the school parking lot, not long after Dustin has climbed into his car, the pair are engrossed in a heated argument on which movie is better: Empire Strikes Back or Return Of The Jedi. Steve knows Empire Strikes back is superior but Dustin is relentless and far too intelligent for his own good that all Steve can do is listen and rub his temples. With his eyes closed and Dustin too occupied with talking, neither see the wiry frame of a redhead until she’s slamming the topside of a skateboard against the hood of his car. That’s when Steve’s soft side comes forward, an almighty scream ripping out of his throat, one surely to shatter glass if it were just that pitch or two higher. 

With a hand against his chest, breathing heavy and quick, Steve stares out of his windscreen to see the face of Max with a burning wrath and honestly, though she’s harmless really, he can tell Billy’s taught her a thing or two on how to look after herself. Steve tries not to think about how much that hurts, just to think of Billy’s name, tries not to think of how pathetic that is. Max isn’t impressed, she’s rolling her eyes as she watches Steve attempt to collect himself before climbing out of the car. Dustin is just making faces, gesturing to Steve like it’s going to help the situation any but it never does. Besides, neither Steve nor Max are paying any attention to him and Steve is much more concerned with his car as he scrambles out to look at the damage. Luckily there are no dents but there is scratching of the paintwork from the grip tape on the board and that alone is enough to get Steve fired up.

“What the- Are you out of your god damn mind, kid?” Steve exclaims and sure, he can get the paintwork redone and it won’t be much of an issue but it’s the principal of it. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what he possibly could have done to piss Max off enough to damage his car.

“Why aren’t you talking to Billy?” Max asks and suddenly it all makes sense. Steve’s head drops back and he whispers ‘you have got to be fucking kidding me’ to the sky like this can’t be really happening, he’s not about to get a lecture from another middle-schooler on relationships.

“Wow, gee Steve, sorry for fucking up your car,” He replies, mimicking Max somewhat but she’s unflinching, expression much like stone. It’s terrifying. 

“You’re such a whiny baby - will you just answer the question?” Max responds and Steve is dumbfounded by the response. It’s only made worse by the snickering coming from inside the car as he begins to gesture toward the scratched paint. Of course Dustin is finding this hilarious.

“Do you see this?” He asks and of course Max see’s it, she caused it but just to screw with Steve that little more, she eyes the scratch on the hood and offers up a nod. Exasperated he throws his hands up into the air and sighs. “Do you really need to ask about your brother? Taking to him is like talking to a brick wall anyway, why would I bother?”

“I can’t stand my brother on most days but without you he’s insufferable, he’s miserable. Whatever the hell you two have going on, fix it because he was happy for once. I actually didn’t hate him for a while,” Max explains and Steve doesn’t know what to say, for once he’s speechless. Steve just couldn’t imagine Billy being truly happy, or that them being together had an adverse affect on how he was with other people. Especially with how closed off Billy always seemed to be when it came to expressing how he felt.

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing going on with me and Billy,” Steve replies finally, almost stuttering over his words as he clambers to pull their maybe-almost-relationship back into secrecy. But Max is rolling her eyes again and he knows he’s screwed, she’s not stupid. She’s known all along.

“Come on, Steve. Everyone can see it, the way you look at each other it’s disgusting,” Max explains, grimacing a little and Steve looks back to see Dustin making exactly the same face as if in agreement. Steve instantly regrets offering to drive the kids everywhere again, by doing so he’s opened himself up to this kind of bullshit and honestly? He’s had enough. “Listen, just fix it because I think he actually loves you and when he’s with you, it’s like he forgets what hating everyone else feels like.”

 

************

 

Steve is sure there’s some irony in how he’s back in this position again. Sitting in his car, out front of the house belonging to someone he loves, mulling over what the hell he’s going to say or how he’s ever going to apologise. He’d been thinking about it for days, Max’s words: “I think he actually loves you,” over and over again. It was Friday and Steve had timed this conversation almost perfectly in hopes that Billy would be alone. From all of their time together, all of the nights Billy had stayed over at his house, he practically knew the others entire schedule. He knew that Billy would be at home, after dropping Max off with the other kids for another ‘epic D’n’D adventure’ - as Dustin called it - and he knew that Billy’s dad wouldn’t be home until late, like every Friday. Though he finished work early, he tended to pick up Susan and head right back out again for whatever they had planned. 

Sucking up a deep breath, Steve finally musters enough courage to get out of his car and march up the Hargrove lawn to the door. In his pocket, the note the other had left him burned a hole, driving him forward. Despite it being there for two weeks, Steve just couldn’t bear the thought of taking it out. He mutters to himself as he walks, running through his own versions of ‘I’m Sorry’, as if talking to himself will help to keep his nerves from eating him alive. “I didn’t mean to pressure you… I’ll wait… I’m sorry…” Steve whispers to himself as he climbs each step, pausing at the top with a heavy sigh, bringing a hand to his face to rub at his eyes. “God, Harrington you’re such an idiot. It shouldn’t be this hard,” He adds in a whisper as he lifts his fist to knock at the door, three times in quick succession.

There’s a split second where Steve considers running, because while he wants to make amends, there is something incredibly terrifying about putting his heart on the line this way. Sure, he loved Nancy but he had never been scared this way with her, scared of having his heartbroken and when it happened, he supposed his heart hurt for the way she did it, not for the fact the breakup happened. Currently Steve hurt and his hands shook because his entire being ached for Billy, because day to day, Steve had come to live and breathe Billy Hargrove like his life depended on it. That’s why seeing the door opening, seeing Billy there dumbfounded with this fucking adorable questioning expression on his face, Steve’s stomach just drops to his damn feet. 

“Steve,” Billy breathes, like he’s both relieved and also thoroughly confused by Steve standing on his doorstep. “Wait, what are you doing here?” Billy adds and there’s a small show of happiness that flashes across his features before he realises where he is, where Steve has come to. He hears the soft call of a female in the background, asking who’s at the door and Billy panics, yelling that it’s nobody as he ushers Steve back.

Steve can’t figure it out, why Billy is pushing him away from the door, away from him. He was sure that everyone was gone and in knowing that, the only thought that comes to mind is that maybe Billy just doesn’t want him to be there and that thought near crushes him completely. “I just want to talk, Billy. Why-”

“You can’t be here,” Billy utters, quietly, following Steve out onto the porch and closing the door behind him. His eyes span the road, the driveway, looking for any signs of his father and even though there’s nothing, it doesn’t settle the unease in his stomach any. "My dad’s gonna be home any second, get in your car… I’ll be there, just give me a few okay?”

That’s all Steve needs to hear, he nods because he gets it and in a way he feels awful for even coming to Billy’s in the first place. He could have called, had Max relay a message but he was never the most rational when it came to love. Billy has his hand on the door knob as Steve is heading down the steps and he stalls, turning to see the other, watching him walk away like he can’t believe that Steve is actually there and talking to him again and here Billy was pushing him away. 

Sure he had a reason but it still didn’t feel good to do it, so he scans the area once more before calling out; “Hey Steve,” Billy starts and Steve stops, peering over his shoulder at Billy with an expectant smile. “It’s good to hear your voice again."

 

************

 

Twenty minutes later and both boys are sitting out back by Steve’s pool, their legs in the water up to their knees, not really saying anything and not yet touching. Both teetering on the edge of wanting to but neither having the guts to do so. The ride to Steve’s house had been awkward, silent, but now? Slowly but surely, the tension was easing. Even if Steve was still just a bundle of pure nerves, playing with his lighter to occupy his mind with anything else than what they clearly needed to talk about. It was hard because Steve wasn’t really that good with words but he liked to be honest, he just wasn’t sure how to be that without scaring Billy into closing himself off again. Sometimes Steve wondered what it would be like if he had powers like El’, if he could read minds instead because he felt like that would come in handy at moments like this when Billy wasn’t saying a lot but seemed to be thinking too much.

Billy? Well, Billy - he didn’t really know how to talk about anything. Not feelings, not apologies. Since he’d mom had died, he’d been conditioned to believe that men, or real men at least, didn’t talk about their feelings in any way, only faggots did. And Neil Hargrove couldn’t raise a faggot. Billy had become so used to the lack of love or affection from the one person who was supposed to provide it the most, that he didn’t know what love was or that he was experiencing it, even when it stared him right in the face. It took Steve literally spelling it out for him and giving him the silent treatment for two weeks for him to realise that Steve was never pitying him - he was in love with him. It was funny, that through all that tough love, not talking about his feelings, the insults and the slurs, Billy had still become what his father had always tried to prevent. A mullet-sporting faggot who pined over dudes. Or one in particular that he just so happened to have fallen in love with too, one Steve Harrington. Because in the months they had spent together, as short as they were, Steve had taught him more about love than he’d ever known from his dad in his entire life. 

“Hey… Earth to Billy!?” Steve exclaims with a soft laugh, the kind of laugh that snaps Billy from his thoughts and fills his heart with warmth. “You okay?”

Billy nods because it’s the truth, but also because just having Steve talking to him again lifted some of that heavy sadness that had settled on his chest. “Can I get a light?” He asks, pulling a cigarette from the pack he’d retrieved from his pocket, pressing it between his lips. Steve obliges, flicking his lighter open again he brings it up to light the stick. Billy is right there to meet him, cradling Steve’s hand in his own to steady it as he puffs at the cigarette. He sees it ignite and his eyes flicker to Steve’s, who is watching their hands so intently. Steve breathes, deep and slow, he’d almost forgotten how comforting it was to have Billy’s strong hand against his own. He shivered as Billy let go, his own hands dropping to his lap but the feeling, like a strong memory, of Billy’s hand still lingers against his skin and it’s the one thing that finally prompts him to speak.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect it to go on this long, the silence I mean, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I just, wanted you to know that you hurt me,” Steve explained, finally lifting his head to look right at Billy. He’s looking out across the pool, his long curls catching the wind just right and Steve thinks there’s something peaceful and graceful about watching Billy taking long drags of his cigarette like this. “I got your note and then you weren’t in classes, you were even leaving gym early so I couldn’t talk to you about it. Then Max-“

“Max? You talked to Max?” Billy asks, a little confused and maybe even a little scared. Like there’s even a sliver of possibility that what happened in California could happen again, that Max would find out and tell his dad. Billy isn’t sure he can handle the fallout, not sure he can handle leaving Steve, leaving his heart behind.

“Max came to me, actually. Told me to make amends already, that she liked you better when you hung out with me,” Steve said and in a round about way that was true and Billy exhales, like he’s been holding it and now he’s relieved. Steve notices it and decides to keep the whole truth to himself, he’s not sure if Billy needed to know that Max was aware there was something between them.

“I understand why she’d say that,” Billy blurts out suddenly and then he’s looking right at Steve, leaving him breathless and he’s smiling, even as he scoffs. “God, I hate that this is the truth but shit, Harrington. I only really like myself when I’m with you too.”

Steve is shocked by the admission, truly he hadn’t expected such honesty out of Billy but he can see that he’s trying. He’s really trying and deep down Steve knows that it’s all for him and in a way he’s grateful but there’s that part of him that feels bad, like he’s almost pushing Billy a little to talk about it. He doesn’t want to push. “We don’t have to talk about the shit I said, I get it. I’m not going to force it, I just want to go back to normal.”

“It’s not that. I don’t know how to, Steve,” Billy admits through an exhale of smoke. He turns his cigarette between his fingers, examining it like the answers to everything were laid within the tobacco shavings. “I want to say everything but it’s hard.”

“So don’t say anything, Billy. Nobody is asking you to,” Steve replied quickly but he’s cut off almost instantly because Billy is getting frustrated. Not with Steve but with himself, because he’s been so desperate for this moment for a long while and now that he has it, he can’t get the god damn words out that he needs to say, that Steve deserves to hear. 

“I want to, Steve. I just,” Billy starts, taking a heavy shaky hand and runs those fingers through his hair, letting them tangle in the curls for a moment. He tugs, like he’s punishing himself for not being able to just feel, like Steve has allowed him to for so long. Finally he breathes, letting his eyes meet Steve’s as he speaks; “I look at you and I just fucking love you and that terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you.”

Steve wants to say something but Billy’s canny ability to make him speechless at just the right moments strikes again and he supposes it’s about damn time Steve just shut up and listened because for once, finally, Billy isn’t just angry and venting he seems calm, happy and open. “You’re not bullshit, Steve. Nancy got it wrong, you’re the only person to ever make me feel like I’m not bullshit either and I… I wanted to make you mine but I can’t and that’s hard to say when it’s all I can think about anymore.” Billy adds, looking at Steve with the saddest of smiles. It doesn't last long, like Billy is disappointed in himself for saying that he can't give Steve what he wants and he looks down, not wanting to see the disdain in Steve's expression that never actually comes. Because Steve isn't disappointed, not even a little bit.

"You love me, huh?" Steve asks and Billy laughs, of course out of all that, that is the one thing Steve hangs onto and he nods, confirming it and setting free a flurry of butterflies in Steve's stomach. Because fuck trying to think of a masculine way to describe what that was, butterflies was the only way to describe it. "I already am yours, I have been ever since you told me you couldn't stop thinking about kissing me while you were drunk. I don't need it to be super public, I just want us to be us again."

That's all Billy needs, that reassurance, that no pressure kind of relationship. Billy and Steve just being Billy and Steve, without Neil ever having to find out and that was all that he could have asked for. He didn't want to have to ask Steve to keep what they have secret but Steve being so understanding meant that Billy didn't have to. Billy doesn't even have to say thank you as he flicks the stub of his cigarette to the other side of the pool and turns to Steve, taking his hand in his own because Steve is looking right at him with stars in his eyes. "Kiss me already, Harrington," Billy says then and Steve does, climbing over to straddle the others lap as he kisses him with such a passion. Billy's hands grip at Steve's shirt, holding him in place like he'll never be able to let go and he realises in that moment that the reason this feels so right is because Steve Harrington home and also Billy's biggest adventure all rolled into one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be closing out very soon but don't worry. i have a follow up in mind and planned. sorry it took so long, moving to another country is stressful and time consuming, love you guys!!!


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